Impatient for the Sunshine

I'm upset because I haven't heard from him. I'm sick of being the first one to initiate communication. I refuse to put myself out there anymore. Obviously, the feelings I have aren't mutual. Or he doesn't have any idea. Or he does and is choosing to ignore it because he's hoping I'll take the hint. Either way, I'm tired of having feelings for people who don't reciprocate them and for people who turn out to be horrible. I keep having doubts about these feelings, maybe because I want to convince myself that I don't. Because, that way, it's not as painful. I pretend like I'm someone who's not easily affected, and someone who doesn't open up easily. But the truth is, I wear my heart on my hypothetical sleeve. I give everything too quickly and put my whole self into things too soon. I think it's because I'm so desperate to have something to be happy about. That's the problem with him. I've put myself, my whole being, into these feelings. Feelings I'm not even sure he's aware of. And I keep hoping this stand-still situation will turn into something. When it keeps disappointing me, I turn on myself. I analyze who I am and who I'm not. I pick apart my actions, berating myself for not being the person he'll want. Scolding myself for caring so much for a person who will only ever see me one way: as a friend. Eventually, I talk myself out of the emotions. Convince myself that I need to focus on me, and my relationship with God (the only thing that should matter). I allow myself to forget that there was never any potential. Forget that I imagined any possibility of there being reciprocation. Forget why I had the feelings in the first place. And then, after I start to believe that I'm past it and that I've moved on from this ridiculous hormone-induced state of emotions, it happens. He does or says something that makes me remember what an amazing person he is. Makes me remember why I cared about him so much as a human being. Makes me fall back into the continuously vicious cycle of annoying brain chemistry that simply will not allow me to move on. All my work is undone and I'm left feeling foolish at square one. (HEY! That rhymed!).

I feel foolish because I'm nineteen. Nineteen year olds don't "fall in love". Nineteen year olds are children. Too young to fully grasp the concept of a love born of a sacrifice. It's childish to feel this way about someone. Because, realistically, will they even matter ten years from now? But I see other people who "have it". Why them and not me? Maybe I'm just not ready yet. I've tried before and it's never worked out. Maybe I actually need to trust God and take a hint. He's got something ( and someone) amazing planned for me. But I, in my childish and human impatience, refuse to be patient enough to discover the path. I insist on just chopping down the forest to get to the sunshine on the other side, instead of slowly traversing the thin, crooked dirt road while taking in the beauty all around me. It's something we all do. We all try to sprint to the finish line. We all attempt to get to our goal as quickly as possible without experiencing the hardships of failure and disappointment. My impatience is a horrible vice. It's a downfall. But I'm trying to overcome it. To let God work as He will on me. To let my life stretch on in front of me. But, irregardless, changing the hormone levels of my brain is impossible. So I'll continue to allow myself these irritating and pointless feelings. Keeping in mind that they'll one day lead me through the woods, to the sunny clearing He's prepared for me.