Becky and I talked for a while last night. About lots of things. We talked about things we wish we could have changed about last semester. There were things in my control that I wish I would have changed: losing weight, overcoming my nicotine addiction, enriching my communion with God, making more friends. But there was one thing out of my control that I wish could have been different: Jessie and I were really good friends, and I made the mistake of telling her that I liked her, and midway through the semester she just up and stopped talking to me. Our friendship died overnight. All I got was an apology. It hurt like hell. I’m sure she didn’t know she was hurting me. But it still hurt a lot. And I grew even more cold and calloused than I was before.
Becky says she likes suffering because she learns from it and grows. I made the comment, “The question is, what do we learn, and how do we grow? Do we become cynical or more hopeful? Do we become better people, or do we turn into cold and hardened jerks?” I’m afraid of becoming the latter. It’s just so difficult. My life seems to be one constant suffering after another, with sporadic bursts of happiness in between—but never a happiness that lasts. Happiness feels so fleeting, so empty, so vain. Am I becoming cynical? Yes—but I cling to hope even if it hurts. Hope that happiness will come, a happiness and joy that will last. A hope that my greatest dreams will not falter but come to pass—my dreams of laughter, love, friendship, romance. I cling to these hopes so tightly.
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