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How disappointed I am is up to me.
How much stock I put in what other people say is up to me.
No one can “make” me feel this way or that…unless I choose.

Except, I do get weary.
I do get my feelings hurt.
Because I am not as good at this “being a grownup” thing as I’d like to be.
Because taking the high road is hard.
(That’s why so few do it.)

Expectations are premeditated resentments, yes
but just how exactly do you live without expectations?
I’m still learning.

Shopping for bread in a hardware store is
a nice way of saying you’re looking for something
that person just doesn’t have to give.

There are several hardware stores I haven’t seen in ages
and I often do without bread, but my Weeble-like optimism
says I’ll find a bakery before I die.

I hope so.

Meanwhile, how disappointed I am is up to me.

Keepin' it real in the bloggerhood,

Suzanne

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