Hope.

“Because what’s worse than knowing you want something, besides knowing you can never have it?” -James Patterson

There's something about hope that both angers and fascinates me. It reminds me of a wheel. Continuous going without end. The anger and frustration comes from my inability to end things. I always find myself deciding to do something, and then somehow talking myself out of it. All these emotions I fall victim to will surely be my downfall. Why is it we continuously fall into the same acts over and over and over again. Obviously I'm referring to my relationships with the opposite sex. They can treat me so horribly and do so much wrong, but with the snap of a finger (or the discovery of a tweet to be exact), I'm sent back into the day dreaming stage. 'What if he is a good guy deep down?' 'What if he didn't mean that?'

The fascination part obviously does not even equal anger. But it is there. We know something is bad for us. We 100% know we shouldn't do something, or feel a certain way. But we do it anyway.

I don't want to want you. Hands down I know you will bring nothing but toxicity into my life. But for some reason, I find myself yearning to learn more about you. To be around you. To be with you. You have given me NOTHING. You have not given me an inkling of a reason to continue on pursuing you. Yet, here I am. And although I'm not physically seeing you, texting you, asking you to hang out, I still find my mind wondering to you a little to much. Still day dreaming scenarios and scenes where you miraculously get to know and learn to love me.

Which is worse? Actually acting knowing you'll bring nothing but trouble? Or laying in bed, thinking up a million ways on how we would meet and you would fall for me again.

I think the latter. Because if it were really happening, despite the fact of it being a treacherous idea, at least I'd know...

..and wouldn't be left to wondering. And hoping.