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Each time I try to write, pessimism and negativity flows out like the rising Missouri River. So I just thought I’d lay low for a few days and take my cynicism to Jesus. But it’s not leaving, and I am not getting any more positive.

I’m sitting in my newly-organized room, though you probably wouldn’t notice if you walked in. Yesterday was one of those tedious cleanings. I went through every article of clothing and decided if I would really wear it or not. I was brutal, guys. I gave up cute stuff. But now I can close my drawers and have a few extra hangers and can see the floor on the side of my bed.

Today the bachelorette completely failed and chose the wrong man. And I had one of those really bad dreams I get once a month. And this weekend the wedding just wasn’t very fun. And this month I’ve been feeling blehh. And I haven’t been doing well this summer.

And life. I’m realizing life is messy. Some people get their great story, others’ lives turn out to be a love song. But I look around, and I look at myself, and mostly I see disappointments, bad decisions, missed opportunities, great weddings that turn into painful divorces, ones that we were so sure about that just up and leave; I see unreciprocated feelings and awkward “things.” And the only time things really work out is in my daydreams.

My room was a mess, and I think part of my desire to completely clean it was in hopes that it would clean up life.

I just read about Jonathan and David and their beautiful friendship. And as Jonathan encouraged David that he would be the next king, I just realized today that it meant Jonathan wouldn’t be the next king. Jonathan wouldn’t get that honor, though he was the son of the king; it would go to David.

Just thinking about that makes me want to vacuum or something.

I was sitting by my aunt at this wedding. My aunt went through a horrible, reputation-killing, strength-draining divorce. The epitome of one of life’s greatest messes. And I saw her ooing and aahing at the engagement pictures, talking about how cute the couple is, and talking to others about how great the groom was. She asked me if all this made me excited for my own special day.

I did not want to cry and let her know every detail about how I wasn’t so sure that I will get my “special day,” or that I was almost convinced that all this is just a mixture of delusion, insecurity, hormones, and baby fever, or that I recently tried out another boy and was once again disappointed to realize that..once again…there was nothing there…again.

But I was struck by how hopeful she was. This woman, who has been through the worst, is asking me if I am excited for the same day in my life that started hell for her in hers. I was confused, and I don’t even remember how I answered.

I am still confused. I am still pessimistic. And I don’t understand how someone who has been through much worse than I can still be a little romantic even though she is 55 and will probably die single.

I don't need optimism. I don't need my cute clothes I gave away. I definitely don't need any more people to get engaged.

I just….need to tidy up my room.

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