There is a certain bliss in falling. The weightlessness and the rush and if you’re lucky someone has taught you how to tuck and roll to avoid much of the pain of impact. I dare say that is why we call it falling in love.
Subtraction makes everything smaller. The less you have the less you are and so I wonder if that is why people wither and die?
No one knows what is in anothers mind. We can guess, ruminate and ponder if we are brave we ask for elucidation. For many people the quest to find love, a true love, is an essential and driving force. So many schools of thought abound. You only have one soul mate, you need to find your other half, there’s plenty of fish in the sea, why settle for one, and you add these ideas to your formative years experience and you try. You try on the off chance that you will win. Some do; many don’t. For the don’t who try again and again you have my respect. Opening one’s self to love after pain is a a gift not many will receive.
I married. I divorced. I found myself spending bits of time on-line talking to people. The serendipity of random friend requests made some meetings feel a lot less like chance and more like destiny. One pattern I noticed were the one’s who made life sizzle always ended in a fizzle. There was one who did not sizzle nor did he burn, he was there being funny, poking fun and making me feel at ease. He was smart, articulate, witty, and handsome. He never professed interest in me to warrant the type of affection I found growing in myself for him. It was painful to watch him flirt with others who fit the description of women he favored. I did my best to stuff those feelings into the far corners of my mind and simply enjoy the friendship we shared.
Quite some time passed and another began actively pursuing me. It was a strange and wonderful feeling. I’d never truly been one to have men pay attention to me. Not only did he notice me but he noticed my friend. He was jealous and angry about him. He pointed out how my friend was disrespectful of me and in deliberate insidious fashion he began planting destructive seeds. They started to root and every time my friend chose to interact with me I saw it as an attack. I had allowed a new and untried and tested person to build a fire of resentment in me. He used the thoughts of my own inadequacies and unrequited desires as kindling and continued with suggestions that I should break free of him. He painted my friend in a way that reminded me of my abusive ex and persisted until I had to do something. And in a rash moment I severed all ties with someone who never deliberately hurt me and who had only ever been hisself. I sent him a message that spoke most of the truth. I loved him, still do, but it was difficult to maintain my sanity when I knew he did not feel the same about me. He said he did not believe me. He said it was politics and that crushed every minscule thought I had that he might have liked me despite my not being his ideal.
It was not a relief. It was a quiet emptiness. It was after this point that the man I had chosen began to behave differently. He started doing insane things and slowly spent less and less time with me ~ ghosting is what the kids call it.
My foolish desire to be with someone who loved me was crushed. Crushed under the weight of his lies, my self deception and my betrayal of a friend. That was the moment that terrible cliché became a reality. I knew what I lost.
It’s a bittersweet continuance. My friend, he, opened himself to the pain of being my friend again and I appreciate that more than he knows. He’s forbidden me to speak of it to him. And I abide by his wish. I want nothing more than his happiness even if it is something that does not include me. I still get jealous but I’ve learned that’s something I need to sort through not him. After all what business is it of his if I love him.
I am not so certain what the future holds. I never thought I would return to the place I am now, and yet here I sit.
The most ironic part of my leaving and retuning is that I continue to harbor the idea that love will prevail within my life. Experience has shown me time and again that this is not true. I do not recall being handed rose-colored glasses but somewhere along the line I must have been.
I have a lot of imaginary conversations in my head with people most of whom I will never meet, and even if I were afforded the opportunity to travel I doubt that they would have the balls to meet me. As I said experience has shown me disappointment time and again.
I grow weary of working for pennies and being told it is what I deserve. Objectively speaking money is a strange and meaningless way in which we humans interact, numbers on strips of colored paper that quantify and value people. I know I need money to survive but I cannot seem to earn enough to support my small family. This saddens me.
When I am alone I think, a lot. One of the thoughts that I ponder is karma. Of all the universal ideologies out there karma seems to prove itself time and again. Selfish people incur karmic events more so than others and they have woe as me events to paint their happenings in a different light. I have witnessed how karma has come into play when people try to prevent another person from gaining righteous happiness. This has particularly long term consequences that I have seen play out in the lives of people I know. I am not certain how these people can free themselves from this entrapment aside from serious soul searching and self forgiveness. Even then, the trespass against the other is what needs to be healed only it cannot be because the moment has passed and can never be recovered.
Just once, I’d like to know what it’s like to be wanted, to be cherished, to have someone let me know they’d walk 500 miles just to be by my side.
There is a myriad of thoughts which occupy my mind the least of them might seem like fluff and nonsense and the greatest of them surpass the weight that Hercules must bear, most are worn smooth some as pebbles in a river, others have the lustre of a deep sea pearl that painful intrusion tended and mulled and eventually cherished for the lesson it brought and still some are as bubbles ephemeral, beautiful then pop they are gone. I have not decided my favorite, I may never will. All of them though they are the mosaic that is me.
I remember being young and looking at my parents and just thinking that they were adults. I had no idea then what it means to be an adult. No one taught me. I have learned a fair bit now. Still not enough.
I class myself as a failure. I have not accomplished anything significant. The work I have barely pays the bills and feeds my kids. I make just a bit too much to get assistance and I cannot talk to anyone about this because it is depressing. No one wants to listen to depressing things. They call it negativity and they walk away or ignore.
I’d like to be doing something productive that allows me the ability to afford my own home, pay my own way as well as that of my children and just exist peaceably among my neighbors. Instead, I live off the largesse of my family. This sucks. I am thankful for a roof but it maddens me that I cannot even return the favor by providing more to them in the form of rent and bills pay.
I work to overcome the spiral of sad thoughts, it just keeps getting harder. I suppose I should be happy that I am in my 40’s and at least halfway done this useless existence. Should I be reincarnated I hope I come back as a tree.