Grave Expectations by Sarah Chickens

Sigh. Well, that went well. I know you probably think by now that I have worse moodswings than half of the people in my country. I'm not one to deny the obvious so I'm just going go out of my way to sulk, wallow and probably hide in some hole right now. Au revoir, tous les monde!

What exactly happened? Easy answer. The inevitable. Hmm as you know a certain couple in my family is getting hitched and I'm supposed to make the invites in exchange for something in my wishlist. Correction! The ONLY item in my wishlist. I thought we'd talked about it and I convinced myself into believing that delusion. Only to have that delusion hit me right in the face, ruining my face and shattering my hopes (the face part was a figure of speech but the hope part I kid you not)

I was fancying them invites to be nothing less than unscrutinizable even to those who have meticulous eyes to detail. I kept mentioning said member of wishlist and mother avoided the topic endlessly until I, finalement, manage to get it out of her. It wasn't happening, what I wanted. In my forlorn solitude, I Patrick Haywarded on- -goodness not them- -myself.

Wells. I dont blame them. I blame myself. My heart is shattered, but its all my fault because I got my hopes up too high. I dont want that many things in life. I'm not sure about things. I talk about traveling but I'm not even sure where I'm going to go. Rarely do I give myself to certainty. If I could help it, I wouldn't have given myself over. Gah, this oddly sounds like a sappy love story. Perhaps Patrick Hayward and I are related. Perish the thought! I wouldn't have chosen what he chose in the end though. Gah I'm disappointed of how the Patrick Chronicles ended. Less dramatic than what I feel right now but since we're talking about despair at the moment...

Well I wont be bothering you guys any more than I already have tonight. Must retire for the night, bonne nuit!

BUT BEFORE I GO. I'm sharing a perfectly unrelated Patrick Hayward. When Joseph tried to cleanse Pat from his 'stack of socks that have been fermenting in a jar of formaldehyde' smelling self-->

Nevermind that we were both fully clothed, or that I was showering with my adult brother. . . this is so wrong on so many levels.

P.S
Perhaps you're wondering if I would continue making the invites. Yes since I'm 3/4 done and I love my family even in my Patrick mode. But even while he sulked, he loved his family despite the circumstances. Hmm perhaps we really arn't too different, Pat and I. So yeah. I would have a different kind of joy, hopefully it will satiate the void that its predecessor left. How dramatic.

P.P.S
Title is pun intended! (needless to say)

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Everything's fine and I've let go. Because this is really immature, to get all that worked up for a single thing. I'm not even that materialistic. Or at least I think so.