But all my choices, my good luck... Appear to go and get me stuck

Choices are scary.

He chose to leave. I choose to think he's dead rather than having willingly chose someone else.

Having chosen the train, I chose the lack of sleep, the fear inducing top bunk, and I chose the lack of security for my luggage.

I didn't choose to lose my bag, some stranger made the choice to take it.

Now I'm trying to choose to be realistic.......he chose someone else. Actively, a choice made of free will, he chose someone else.

And I'm choosing to accept the fact that my luggage is long gone, that someone needed it more than I. I choose to believe that this very iPad made my laptop and my DSi obsolete.

It's harder to choose to be equitable about all my new purchases from Colorado; my jewelry from Boulder Home Town fair, my new brassiere that made my girls look wonderful, my new BFF purse......and then of course all my clothes. The jewelry I had brought to show my friend, jewelry created by my mom, and my emeralds, the last of a set from my Gramie.

But you want to know what brings me to tears, no matter what I choose to believe? My teddy bear. I want to swear, I want to break down in tears, but that little bit of nostalgia, that loss hurts the most.

Stupid huh?

But I have no choice.