Patterns

Another cycle is complete. Seven days, seven plays, ways, frays, etc. I've worked at school, worked at work, dreaded both, been friendly, been irritated, been missed, ignored, invited, and indignant. And now that cloudy Saturday is here again, I can feel the throes of guilt and sadness descending on me once again. Yes, I cried before I slept last night. Again. Because someone was not nice to me. Again. Same person as before. These patterns are really disturbing, actually.

These are the patterns of my mind, and they take about seven days to refresh. There's getting older. There's being unfulfilled. There's feeling unwanted. There's my predictions coming true. If this were the old days, I could get a job as a seer. Over the summer, I predicted that I would become completely undesireable to a specific person, that he would no longer wish to touch me or anything else. He vehemently denied that it would happen. That has come to pass. Some of my more inward predictions have also come to pass, but mostly because I know myself thoroughly enough to predict when and how my weaknesses will manifest themselves in the greater part of my life. I now have regrets. Or maybe just unsureity that the decisions I've made recently were the correct ones, wondering if my life's banality is a result of my unwillingness to accept the unexpected things in life as possibilities instead of complications. I guess it doesn't even matter now.

But it probably never did anyway.