I'm awfully quiet, not that I'm really noisy anyhow. But it's the almost-sad quietness, not of the unhappy kind. This year I'm ok. But I'm quiet because usually the something I want comes during Christmas time, that Cartier bag, that Chanel watch, oh and those Bvlgari earrings. And they usually pop up hey presto wrapped in red and green, and gold and silver. And with those come gift cards full of heartwarming messages from the heart, because they're usually from my boyfriend, or my twin brother, or my brother in law who I love to bits. Mum and dad play safe, although this year there will be a change of monetary denomination, lots and lots of Euro. Which is just fine. So it should be an awesome time to look forward to. The thing is I'm hoping I'll survive this year. Perhaps I'll give a miss on the shopping. Because there will be so many children with their parents on the look out for the perfect gift. I will have to act awesomely pleased, and perhaps I will be. But it's all there inside and it doesn't feel very good. I try to forget but it'll probably take the biggest sedative in the world to make me forget. And I am not one to sleep on troubles. And I think I'm going to cry which is ok since I'm alone and only one of my cats will see me. I am acting like the mum who will constantly make excuses to get up from the dinner table to call her babysitter. I know it's not very fair on my boyfriend, but he'll understand no problem. It should be the best time of the year, and in all fairness I cannot grumble, but and but and but. I feel I have let down someone. But I tried, and tried and tried. I wrote countless of emails, my telephone bill is going to be as big as I am, and my incessant meetings with this and that have turned me into some ambassador of something which is yet to be invented. I tried. I tried my best. My boyfriend tried even harder. We are almost into the 7th year of our relationship which so many people would have thought wouldn't work out. But it has. Because I can never find any wrong with a man whose sentiments are as noble as Mother Theresa's. Just when, at 29, I had given up and almost resigned myself to being left on the shelf, although that in itself was a problem because I have never seen household shelves big enough for me.
I know people are watching my blog. For what reason I have no idea. But I don't care. I write anyway, one because it's therapy, two because maybe someone out there will realise what is going on and have a heart and help, not just me, but a little person. No, I am not Mother Theresa and yes, like all people I am prone to mistakes. I am constantly questioned why the particular young man. I don't know, because we never chose who to love. I am also asked why that child because he is no genius. Well genius is very much open to perception isn't it? I am also questioned why I don't want a newborn, why I don't try looking for a foreign child. But I want a special child who is not foreign, who is not a baby, and I want him not any other because it's him I love the most. It's that young man who, in his own way, made me realise that I should look at the world through his eyes, which in turn made me realise what a strong young man he is to have survived. And perhaps I should make this clear once and for all, I did not want him just for Christmas. No child is a Christmas dinner's roast. It would have been nice, but it isn't happening, so I'll keep hoping for the New Year. I have so little time left, the little man will grow into a strapping young man soon. I hope he will, and I hope he keeps his promise.... that he'll remember his schooldays no matter what and grow up into a good man. I think he will. Because he too has a big heart, and you can never go wrong with that.
I know people are watching my blog. For what reason I have no idea. But I don't care. I write anyway, one because it's therapy, two because maybe someone out there will realise what is going on and have a heart and help, not just me, but a little person. No, I am not Mother Theresa and yes, like all people I am prone to mistakes. I am constantly questioned why the particular young man. I don't know, because we never chose who to love. I am also asked why that child because he is no genius. Well genius is very much open to perception isn't it? I am also questioned why I don't want a newborn, why I don't try looking for a foreign child. But I want a special child who is not foreign, who is not a baby, and I want him not any other because it's him I love the most. It's that young man who, in his own way, made me realise that I should look at the world through his eyes, which in turn made me realise what a strong young man he is to have survived. And perhaps I should make this clear once and for all, I did not want him just for Christmas. No child is a Christmas dinner's roast. It would have been nice, but it isn't happening, so I'll keep hoping for the New Year. I have so little time left, the little man will grow into a strapping young man soon. I hope he will, and I hope he keeps his promise.... that he'll remember his schooldays no matter what and grow up into a good man. I think he will. Because he too has a big heart, and you can never go wrong with that.
