Sometimes, in the darkest of nights, I cover my face with my arms and think. The next thing you know, rain trickles from the corners of my eyes and a big lump forms in my throat. And I just cry. I cry until the crying  becomes heavy weeping, the kind that gives you a hard time breathing. Most of the time I enjoy a good sob session because I feel so much better afterwards. There are times, too, when I turn the waterworks on for no particular reason.

But tonight the tears wouldn't stop flowing because I realize I've returned to where I originally was. The ultimate truths:
I am lonely.

I am (still) depressed.

I am in fear.
I am exhausted.
I (still) hate myself. (To a lesser degree, perhaps.)

Or, maybe, I never really left. That I've always been where I was but have, indeed, just concealed what was always underneath.

So, as I was letting my tears flow freely earlier, I spoke to God. (I always talk to God during such incidents.) I asked questions and I expressed my sentiments, if you will. I know that He knows what's in my heart and my thoughts, but I tell Him anyway. There really is absolutely nothing to hide from Him, so there's no point in trying to do so.

Anyway. 

I told Him things I've said three or four years ago. In fact, I'm pretty certain that I say the same things year after year.

Because the truth is: I am lonely and I try to cope with it by focusing on other things, like work. I work myself too hard most times to avoid Loneliness as it constantly nags my thoughts. Somehow Loneliness likes to come a-knockin' on the door when my mind is idle. Loneliness is not a very pleasant guest. So I keep myself busy, telling Loneliness I am unable to attend to it. Not just yet. I work hard and miraculously excel in whatever I clutch onto. It's a pretty amazing feeling, when you really think about it, but it doesn't really have much bearing by the end of the day. Because I still have to live with Loneliness.

Okay, okay. I know God says I never ought to feel lonely because He is always with me. And I have the most amazing family and wonderful sets of friends whom I love and love me just the same, no matter what. I know that and I am grateful for it. But. 

But of course it's different when I'm longing for the him I've never met.

Honestly, what if I was meant to be the female version of the Forever Alone dude (physically)? I always consider that particular thought and when I realize that it is an actual possibility, my heart just aches so much. Then I start to hyperventilate. 

Still, I am hopeful for a brighter possibility: the one that would allow me to be with the him whom God has created just for me. The imperfect being who is made to compliment my existence in this chaotic world. It's a beautiful thought and when this comes to mind, breathing becomes a little easier.

I have a fifty/fifty chance, I guess. I just wish the waiting is not as dreadful as it apparently is. Because look at me, I have gone mad.

Of course I would absolutely love to be married someday and have children and all the glorious things that come along with such future. Like I said, it's a beautiful thought that keeps me hopeful.

Last Thursday night, I was having a rather comical chat with Russ. He asked what I was looking for in a guy and my automatic response was, "Well, the #1 thing is that he has to be a Christian. And, you know, the usual. Nice, sweet, etc." He told me I ought to be more specific with what I want because "the usual" doesn't really cut it. I replied with, "When you meet THE person, you'd feel it, right?" Kind of like everything falling into place. Russ agreed.

The truth is, I do have a specific type. He has to be a follower of Jesus (because God knows how important it is to have a spiritual leader in the household) and he has to be nice and sweet and caring and affectionate and compassionate...and all these wonderful characteristics. That would be "the usual" for me. Physically, he just has to be at least three inches taller than I am (as opposed to my original: a very specific height of 5'11"). He has to be fit and one who has a pretty good build; I like my men healthy, thank you very much. Brunette (dirty blondes are acceptable), preferably European (okay, I know I'm going over the line here), but I'm just not so much into Asians unless he's Harry Shum, Jr. I don't know why, but I've never really been into Filipinos either (though there are exceptions). And the most important thing of them all: his fingernails and his toenails must be clean and just basically well-groomed. 

Writing that paragraph ^ made me smile, truthfully.

But anyway, the point is, I do have a specific type. Yet, even if I'm specific to the nails (literally), it still isn't up to me to decide. Because God chooses the best one for us.

It's just such a scary thought that with all this day-dreaming, I'm already painting a picture of what I'd like my future to look like. This is a tragedy because then my expectations would have elevated to an impossible height and if something less is given to me, I might be disappointed. The longer I paint (wait), the more the painting requires colors of all shades...when in the beginning all I really wanted was a simple sketch of a couple holding hands.

The themes of the novels I read are almost always about a single character (not necessarily the marital status kind) who tries to find meaning in life and puts all the puzzle pieces together. Their stories are usually poignant and melancholy, but the characters always find ways to make it work. To make life work. A lot of them deal with depression, too, like they need something, anything to happen to get them out of the pits. I can relate so well. Anyway, I like reading about how they overcome all these issues that I, too, deal with.

Sometimes I think I'm doing life the wrong way. Or maybe I just like to complicate things.

I don't know how I turned into such a rebel. Was it because of the loneliness brought by the him, who does not exist in my life? Or was it because all my life I've been the goody-two-shoes? Maybe my life really is just a boring piece of nothing.

Another truth: It is insane, but I enjoy the thrill of being a rebel. It's exhilarating because I get to escape my true form, temporarily.

Sometimes I wish God could just "fix" me in an instant. That's impossible (not to mention asking too much!), of course, but this life, at this moment, is...well, indescribable. I really don't have a single word for it.

For once, I just want things to be really okay. I'm tired. But I'm not giving up. God's got this.

It's 5:02am. My eyes aren't so puffy anymore. I think my head's cleared a little and I can sleep now. Escape  from reality, for a little while.