The clouds in the sky when I walked up Main tonight were weirdly menacing, yet slightly hopeful. Menacing because they were black and gray; hopeful because they were fluffy with patches of white. I really want to focus on the white bits (little fluffy clouds, as it were), but all I can see is the black and gray.
I met up with a guy I used to mess around with last week and he informed me that I'm not putting myself out there and I really should because he doesn't think I should be single. It made me sick to my stomach to hear that from someone who rejected me when I put myself out there. I'm still not at a point where I can fathom being interesting to anyone else, seeing how all I really do is work and sit around my house looking at fabric (lately). And, based on how interesting I am to my friends recently, I can see my doubt is well-founded.
A movie I've recently discovered, largely on the review of it being the saddest musical in movie history, is Les parapluies de Cherbourg. I watch it and cry, drawing non-existent parallels to my own life, while mental noting the colour combinations and styles of dresses. Any sad movie suddenly mirrors my life while I'm in this state and no amount of denial can convince me otherwise. I worry my life will be a tragi-comedy, where my ironic death will come sooner than it should have because of some stupid single person decision I will inevitably make because I am alone with no one to offer rational advice.
In short, I'm frickin' freaking out.
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