Its strange, this disappointment I feel. Although I'm thrilled for him, I'm also slightly...unimpressed, I suppose. Or jealous. Not neccessarily of her, because I knew full well that nothing would come of this "crush" or whatever it is that you would like to call it, but of them both, finding their happiness and loving one another despite all the turmoil and all the angst that had separated them for more than a year.
This is not to say that my life is miserable. It isn't. I'm good friends with my ex, and although I'm still confused about how that will turn out, I'm okay with the position that we are in. But sometimes it seems as though my fairy tale won't come. There will be none of that passionate, impulsive love in my future: the love that makes you want to be an artist, a poet, a musician. Sometimes it seems that this is all that's left to my life: studying and working and hoping and waiting. That is what my disappointment is from, I think.