tabled...again.

it's a funny thing, sitting in front of a blank screen, so sure you are brimming with so many things to write, yet, when prompted by the cursor to begin, you find nothing is in your head or your heart but weariness and maybe even emptiness; not emptiness for lack of faith or lack of responsibilities, but emptiness due to being in the delayed part of delayed gratification. i feel like mourning right now. i feel like mourning the fact that i was tabled, yet again. the fact that i don't understand why shows me that i must have some sort of confidence or belief in myself as a person of value, or i wouldn't be so surprised and hurt when i'm tabled. i asked for a clear sign tonight one way or another and i received exactly what i asked for, yet it has made me so sad i can't begin to explain it. maybe it's because i already knew the answer and still refused to accept and move in a different direction, which would have given me the edge and bragging rights for staying one step ahead of the game. i repeat this same scenario over and over, and i never change my part. they say that insanity is doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result, the funny thing? i don't expect a different result...it's like i know exactly what i'm getting myself into right from the beginning and i still play the part to perfection that will get me where i least want to be. i was once labeled a self-sabotager...screw labels. i will wake up a different person tomorrow than i was today. i will wake up relieved and pissed because the decision was made for me. i will wake up, breathe in and out and realize i've been given another day, another chance to love on others who have been tabled their whole lives. my stuff was literally put on a table by someone else as a sign that it was time for me to leave. tabled. again. part of me is pissed that i didn't make the decision first. part of me is relieved because i probably wouldn't have made the best choice. part of me is pissed that i wouldn't have made the best choice. part of me is wondering why. part of me knows. part of me wishes i would talk more about things that are truly on my mind, or on my heart, and confront things as they come instead of analyzing a great response later. part of me keeps trying to fix things that aren't broken, while allowing the things that are broken to sit in the driveway untouched. part of me wishes i could carry a conversation like i carry a pen. part of me realizes there is something greater at work here. part of me wishes i could fix it. part of me can't quit. part of me already has. part of me isn't really worried about any of it, knowing that i will never come up with a solid answer or solution, and that i can never know exactly what someone else is thinking. part of me also understands that being awake almost 48 hours can really begin to mess with your emotions. that part of me tells me that it is time to bid farewell, even though there are a million pieces of me i would like to begin to peice together all in the time span of one blog. i hope...suddenly i sit here hoping...and falling asleep.