It's not something I do on purpose. I don't enjoy it. Resting all my expectations on one pretty insignificant event is always likely to result in disappointment. Yet it's a difficult cycle to get out once you get used to doing it. For years this was how I lived my life and ultimately it came back to haunt me, leaving me incapable of finding hope in any moment no matter how small or massive. I guess living that way was the safer bet; if you never got your hopes up then you couldn't possibly be let down. But it also left me feeling a bit empty and with little to look forward to. Still, I was drifting along that way quite merrily until recently when right out of the blue pops up something that tips me upside down all over again. One, little thing gives me a punch in the face and knocks me out. As much as I try and blink it away, as much as I try and tell myself to stop, I can't. It gets a good firm grip and shakes me and before I know it I'm back to square 1.
There were probably far too many vague metaphors in that last paragraph, but it would ruin the fun if I were to tell you just what it is I'm actually harking on about. That and it would mean I was resting even more hope on it by spreading that hope around to other people which would go completely against what I was trying to achieve by spilling all on here. On the bright side, at least it does give me reason to think maybe things are on the up (which in many other respects, they are,) and it gives me some sort of content to add to my recently slowing flow of blog posts.
I've had such a lot on that weirdly it makes it harder for me to think of anything interesting to write about unless it has something to do with the particular work I'm doing at that moment.
Currently that work is about domestic abuse, which isn't a subject I can make light of easily and would thus lead to a fairly dull post.
Instead I'll stick to the mundaneness of my existence and hope that in some small way telling strangers about it makes it more exciting.