You could say that I gave up.  Or that I stopped believing... Or even that a long, bad streak has hardened me.  I'd like to think that I'm just being cautious.

Unfortunately, I've never been that good at convincing myself of anything.

Two weeks ago I let myself dream a little, then quickly put those to rest.  I have, as my closest will all tell you, this uncanny ability to get wrapped up in things that have not yet come to pass and spin images of people that aren't based off reality.  So I, as previously said, stopped myself before a tick was added to the frustrations column.

And then Monday I got an itch to dance that just had to be scratched.  So I headed for the studio to pick up a class.  There were familiar faces everywhere.  Three years since I started it all, and I was a very welcomed face - particularly by one individual, who had a message for me.

Was it really me she noticed all those nights ago?  We only shared a couple dances that evening.  Depending on my mood - or, more appropriately, my current state of self-esteem - I can put the events together a couple of different ways.  I was ready to write it off as a case of mistaken identity.  I still am...

I never thought I would be at a point in my life where the only love I can remember is unrequited.  These days I just try to be careful not to stir up old ghosts.  My sentimentality is my own worst enemy.  I'm cautious over what music I listen to, what movies I watch, how much time I have with nothing but my thoughts...

I've grown scared of hope.

I've probably said more than anyone how I believe that someday things will all fall into place making all the pain worthwhile.  But each year I watch go by makes it that much harder.

I miss the days of blinded sight.