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Expectations

So I’m working on trying to write a character analysis for Great Expectations. As I sit here, I’m coming to realize just how big a role expectations plays in our lives. Everyone has them, and nearly everyone is left disappointed by them.

Here’s a short list of all the expectations I’ve had just this week. (The ones in italic actually worked out)

  • Affection
  • Happiness
  • Finish my book
  • Feel accomplished
  • Kisses hello & goodbye
  • Something anything cute
  • Write a quality-ish monologue
  • Have someone bring me breakfast
  • A visit from someone when I’m sad
  • Flowers (that’s a long shot. more like a dream)
  • Recognition for trying to actually look presentable in public

dreams

I’ve come to realize I’m a dreamer. I always have these big elaborate hopes for the people around me. that they’ll take notice to the subtleties I put out there. that they’ll tell me the things I need to hear. that they’ll make me feel appreciated and not rejected. but must of all I have things I expect of myself. that I’ll be happy with what I have. that I’ll be open to change and love. that I’ll be happy, with no regrets or doubts.

to anyone who is suffering in any way,

know that you are not alone. whether you are mourning a loss, feeling crushed by expectations, or simply struggling to get by, you are not alone.
I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. that reason may be nonexistent to you right now, it may seem like life is awful and unfair. but the path you are on is where you’re meant to be.
look around you, and see the beauty of life. even in chaos, there is solace in the simplicity of the world around you. a baby’s smile, sunshine peeking through the clouds, snow glittering in the trees.
look around you, and see everyone willing to support you and help you get through this.
no one should ever have to suffer alone. reach out. there is someone who cares.

hereunoia:

If the boy who draws

let’s you look over his shoulder.

If the poet

smiles

and shows you her words.

If the girl who sings for the shower only,

hums a song

in front of you.


Know that you’re no longer a person

but the air

and dust

that fills their lungs.


When the world perishes,

and all things cease to exist,

you’ll remain inside an ink stain,

a paint brush,

a song.


— Alaska Gold

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