Time wasted waiting for the mother who raised me to actually love and accept me. She’s dead.
Time wasted waiting for the mother who gave birth to be to actually love and accept me. She told me to fuck off.
Time wasted wishing my dad didn’t travel for weeks at a time. He did and he’s dead.
Time wasted waiting for Prince Charming – guess since I remained in the rags Gave up on Prince Charming, and haven’t worn rags in 40 years.
Time wasted waiting for that first major boyfriend to say he could not live without me. He’s married twice. Neither time to me.
Time wasted wishing the man I married was different. I can’t change him. Couldn’t then, can’t now. Feel fortunate he is still a friend.
Time wasted thinking I could ever be the person someone couldn’t live without. That just ain’t gonna happen. Way too late, and that’s okay.
Time wasted thinking these things would stop hurting me to the core.
Going to try to stop time wasted. Turning 60 was difficult (none of the other BIG birthdays were). I can’t change anything. All my time wasted IS time wasted. I can’t get that time back.
What that boils down to is I’ve wasted my whole fucking life hoping someone could make me whole. I know all the cliché’s that say only I can to it. But we don’t live in a vacuum.
Well, maybe I’ve been in a vacuum. Time wasted.
My Scarlet Letter 
I would have to say when I turned 50 was my worst birthday. When I turned 50 I had a wonderful weekend, my birthday was on a Friday. That following Monday, 4 days after my birthday my Mom had a massive heart attack and passed away approximately 30 minutes after we had been together. When we left each other that evening I gave her a hug and a kiss and told her I loved her. Thank goodness those was the final words that my Mom heard me say to her. I am crying now as I sit here and type this. That was the worse day of my life.