what I want.

Deciding specifically what I want on any given day is such a process, such a matter of deduction and rationalization and compromise. I can't decide, for example, if I want to be unhappy because other wants I routinely decide upon have not materialized or become mine. Should I let that perceived lack bring me down? I have so many other things going my way, why do I allow myself to be bogged down so much by such insignificant things as unrequited love? If I wanted, and sometimes I do, I could choose to wallow in the hopeless injustice of it all. I could listen to the saddest music and cry myself to sleep in the middle of the day, bathed in afternoon sunlight. I could put off all my responsibilities so that I might focus all my energies on being unproductive and miserable, lethargic and fatigued, remaining as lonely as possible.

But what do I want, precisely? I want to be happy, right? I want to feel loved, to feel needed, to feel helpful and appreciated. I want to feel blameless, wanted, and special. I want to be educated and skilled. I want a career that suits me enough to feel more like a delightfully-involved hobby than a cumbersome to-do list. I want to travel as much as I possibly can, I want to make friends all over the world. I want my dog. I want a sense of importance. I want to be respected for who I am and what I do and choose for myself. I want to love everyone for their individual cocktail of specialness. I want to paint. I want to sew. I want to make dance costumes and accessories. I want to DANCE. I want to continue losing weight, to be as svelte as I possibly can be, because I feel really good about myself when I am toned and agile.

And in the grand scheme of things, I truly, desperately want companionship. Namely, Toby's. How can I possibly have everything I want and also keep him? It seems unachievable. He is quite permanent at the moment, and I have always been rather transient. I want to go to Canada for graduate school, and am in the application process for a program that specifically suits my goals, experience, and education. I want to pursue that for myself, so how could I insist, unselfishly, that he stay with me while I explore my own version of success? Talk about injustice.

I can't have it all, it seems. This does not assuage the grief I feel at choosing my own path and watching Toby choose his own, one that generally does not involve me. Although I realize that my conflicting desires are incredibly hypocritical, I just can't get past the notion that we ultimately belong together.

Gah. The positive side of it is I don't have a boy for whom I compromise my goals, and I will likely move right on through to my next phase in career pursuit and it will turn out for the best. I can't help but hold onto the heartache though.