When Mascara Gets In Your Eyes

You ever wonder if you’ll stop making the same mistakes?  I do.  Although I doubt I ever will.  My priorities are all wrong, especially where men are concerned.

Tomorrow I have to go to London to hand deliver an application for a scholarship that I couldn’t get finished for various reasons before the postal deadline of today.  I have various things to finish off on the application myself, and I was awaiting a reference from one of my referees, who I hadn’t been able to get in touch with until today, but who promised me it would be done.  Therefore I  booked my train ticket in order that I don’t miss out on this opportunity, if I’m successful, to potentially change my life.

Now bearing in mind the postal deadline was today, you would have thought I would at least have everything I need to do done by today.  Not quite.  With everything that has gone on the last week especially, I’ve been unable to concentrate on getting it finished and have been avoiding it like the plague.  However, when it looked like I might be unable to apply due to circumstances out of my control (my referee not submitting the reference), I was determined that I had to get it in, no matter what.

Tonight I had already arranged to see my ex-boyfriend, who I split up with a couple of weeks ago.  It was always inevitable that we would separate, although I naively thought that would happen when I finished uni and left Lincoln.  We’re still on friendly terms though so had arranged to meet tonight.

So why didn’t I cancel this meeting with him, citing the need to get my application finished and printed and ready to take with me for tomorrow?  In my mind I figured I would go out tonight, then finish my application off when I got home, or else in the morning, since I’m normally awake at 5am.

Of course, he was late home from work by which time he called me to say it was too late for him to meet.  My make-up is all done but I’m still in my pyjamas as I couldn’t decide what to wear.  It was almost like something was stopping me getting dressed.  Like I knew it would be a pointless exercise.

So here I am, all made up and nowhere to go, with an important application form that needs doing.  I’m asking myself why I didn’t cancel tonight, because then it would have saved me from the disappointment.  I think the reason is because I am so desperate for a relationship I always put men before me.  I’m not disappointed not to be meeting him; I’m disappointed that I didn’t put myself first.

It’s a good job I’m heading to London tomorrow.  At least by doing so I may stand a chance of being able to go to Los Angeles to do a Master’s degree in Women’s Studies…and then find out why the hell I think and act the way I do.


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