I'll Take Things That Suck For $1,000, Alec

DISCLAIMER: The author (the Former Fiancee, FF for short) of this page knows that she is failing at this whole, 'My-Mom-told-me-I-was-special-one-too-many-times-so-now-I-feel-it's-my-god-given-right-
to-speak-my-mind...and-the-masses-will-LOVE-it', thing. (This is most commonly referred to as blogging, but said author has never thought of herself as common -- which is really quite remarkable when one considers the fact that anytime the FF either emitted natural bodily functions and/or used equally "offensive" language, her grandmother promptly informed her that she was 'being common' and that, yes, she could help it). Now that we have that out of the way, let's move on, shall we...

So, as you know from my first entry, I've been an FF since January. It was way back then that I had to (once again) move all of my shit out of What's-his-face's (WHF) home. Because my Schwinn couldn't accommodate all of my crap, I had to borrow my Mom's SUV to get the job done. Now, we all know it was a very wise man who told us never to do today what we can put off until tomorrow, however, even I must admit that waiting until just now to get said crap out of my Mom's car is, perhaps, a touch rediculous...or so I thought.

Let me clarify; you see, like you, I thought I was being rediculously lazy, end of story. I just assumed it was the million and ten other things on my mind that needed to get done before I could bring my belongings inside and create a proper place for them in my room. You know, really important things such as playing Text Twist for hours at time, driving around aimlessly smoking butts, watching Real World marathons and deciding how to spend my lottery winnings that I have yet to buy a ticket for -- those sort of things. But as I sit here, in this ever mounting pile of clothes and crap, it dawns on me that it wasn't the work of moving into and organizing my room that I was avoiding, but rather, the ominous feeling of finality that completing the job will inevitably bring. As each article of clothing settles into it's new home, it becomes more and more evident that this really is happening -- that it's not just a terrible dream that WHF will soon wake me from with a gentle kiss. Now there is no denying that the Fairy Tale Ending Express got permenately derailed somewhere between Will-You-Marry-Me township and Happily-Ever-After village. I look at my newly organized room and envision it as the final nail in the coffin labled "FF and WHF's relationship".

But there is a silver lining in all of this; now that the coffin is properly sealed, I can finally give it the burial it deserves, free from being overwrought with emotion. My relationship may be dead, but I will carry with me the memories of the good and pure times forever. What's more, by holding onto these positive thoughts, I am forcing myself to let go of any and all anger/bitterness I have clung onto until now. (And not a moment too soon either...baggage like that is far too heavy to be lugging around with you everywhere you go anyways). Now that I am 'traveling lite', I can only imagine how much easier it's going to be to find the Fairy Tale Ending Express once more -- let's just hope that I recognize my train when I see it coming around the bend.