And I Wish You Were Here

I keep waiting.  And waiting.  Always waiting for something to happen.  That's always been my flaw, if you want to call it that.  But I always thought it made my life more interesting, because that's how I live it.  I told you two and a half years ago that I don't start things, and I don't end them, that I let them happen to me, that I go with what someone else sets into motion.

I've always been very interested in other people.  In psychology, although I never would have chosen it as a specialty.  I always want to know how people react and what they do and how their minds work.  More than anything, I want to understand what goes on in their brains, what neurons fire and how this sequence, this combination, how they all come together into thought, into action.  That's why I let myself live like this, why I let my actions be determined more by others.  Because I wanted to see how these choices would reflect on my life.

I think I might be changing, though.  I've started seeking other people less and less often to make choices for me.  Perhaps because I've found a path I want to follow.  And that path doesn't leave much room for error.  It doesn't encourage me to expand my social circle or increase my trust in anyone.  And I'm pretty sure that this is what I want.  So I guess that's why I've stopped asking questions about what I should do, why I've stopped letting people make decisions for me.  Because I've finally found something for myself.

But there are still things that I can't get over.  There are still people I want to know, people I want to understand, some of whom I have a chance to get close to, and others of whom I will never see again.  My mind won't let these things go.  And I imagine that's not necessarily a problem, but it's an itch I can't scratch.  It'll always be something I wonder about.  I'll always wait to see what people do.  And I'll always try to understand.  I hope it does me some good.  One day, at least.