Sort of out of sorts
I'm supposed to write about my feelings here, but I don't even know what I am feeling! Am I worked up? Not really. Am I bothered? Yes, I guess I am. To what avail? None, I suppose. The world will not change a whit, and neither will we. It all seems so silly now. So trivial. So much ado about nothing. Someone stood me up for an hour. That's it. No explanation, no call to say he was going to be late. Just a call one hour and fifteen minutes later that began with a sheepish chuckle and ended with me putting down the phone on him. What was the big deal? The anticipation. The looking forward to something that is out of the ordinary from my usual Thursday after my shift. Maybe that's how boring things have gotten. So that when something is supposed to happen, and it doesn't, I overreact while trying my darndest not to. Meanwhile, HE probably doesn't know what to do. Is he even sorry, or apologetic? Does he even care? Why do I care so much? Is it any wonder I'd rather be a hermit and shun the world and its inhabitants? I know, I know. It's a very small thing. But they wear you down, and I am out of practice. And out of sorts. Goodnight.