I am going to be harping on about this for a long time.
I can't explain why it was ever so important to me to go. The only thing I can say is that I was going to relax and get to catch up with some friends. I was going to have some adult time, where I didn't have to talk about how school is going for the Bipolar boy. Or how the kidlets are that I watch. I was actually going to get to talk about adult things *gasp*!
Imagine that you feel like you have been on a treadmill, going way to fast. Try as you might, you get fall behind. The further you fall behind, the harder it is to catch up and keep up. Finally you get so completely worn out and out of breath, that you feel like giving up. Then you have the opportunity to turn down the pace on the treadmill, and you jump at it, because you will not have to fight so hard to keep up. It will be like taking a break, so you can rest up and eventually get back to the hectic pace. Just as the treadmill is slowing down, something goes haywire, and it speeds up. Faster then you had been going before and you go flying off the back, because there is no possible way to keep up. You land on your ass in a heap at the end of the treadmill, and you can do nothing but cry, because you can't change what just happened.
That is what it feels like for me.
I wish there were some way to go. I mean I can actually afford the airfare to go, it is the staying while there that is the expensive, non affordable thing.
I still have my concert ticket. I suppose I am yet holding out hope for some sort of whacky miracle to happen. I know that in all likelihood I will be here next Wednesday, instead of at a kick ass concert in New York. I think next Wednesday I am wearing all black, and going into mourning. Okay, well maybe that is overkill, but hey at least I sort of have a sense of humor about it.