One thing I cannot seem to finger.
There is a certain detachment I feel from people.
I mean, I am about to leave a four year relationship, and I am okay with that. Of course, I love him. But I don’t think I have ever understood the importance of love. Well, other people’s importance of love. That importance that drives them to be miserable in order to feel that they have someone to love them.
Is that REALLY the point? Honestly.
Love is not that important to me.
Love in incidental. Accidental.
I love everyone in my life, but that love does not invoke or entitle anyone else to the loss of my own happiness. It is okay to love someone without being able to live with him. It is okay to be single and living alone, with intent.
Love happens, but I don’t not think it is the point of life. It is the accident of life. It will happen over time, so why so much drive and force to make it happen faster? That kind of love I don’t think I need. I know I don’t need. Or want.
I have most of my life – I mean including childhood (it is uncanny how long I have felt this) – wondered if I am incapable of loving someone. Incapable of caring. I never seem to be as strongly attached to folks as they are back to me. Even those I adore beyond words.
I have learned – right or wrong – to soften my words, the way I express my feelings. Because others seem unable to understand their strength, their intensity. I mean, when I connect with other being, I know fairly quickly, instantly. I understand the rarity and like to acknowledge it. It seems to me that many folks cannot accept this praise for someone too new in their life. Or feel they cannot live up to it, even though I hold no expectation but a chance to see a friendship grow. They scare off.
For the most part, I don’t think I mind the need to taper myself. I’m okay with softening the punch, quieting down, not mentioning what I hold in my heart. I cannot expect others to be where I am. I cannot demand them to be as I am. I understand. I accept this. So I wait.
But not always wait. Sometimes, as like now. I have to stop waiting, or at least move further away to wait. I cannot sit this close and feel my life choke away as I lose myself in someone else’s strangle hold of love.
Most of my life I have wondered if maybe I was missing something, something integral to life, to life among humans. If perhaps I was placed here to simply watch and record and learn without actually engaging in life. I don’t think I ever shake this feeling for long.
I have also been my own victim of cycles.
I always think I am changing and learning new habits. Altering bad ones, building good ones. Then – ultimately, there I am, back at the beginning of the cycle.
Starting new. Starting alone.
Thinking I am designed to be that way. Really being okay with the thought. Some day I hope to remember that before I move in with another lover.
I don’t need them here. They are allowed to have their own homes. I don’t need to share a house to share a life. I know this. I just keep getting swept up in other folks’ dreams and desires. One day, I hope my own will take a worthy place in my life.
I know this. I hope to continue to know this throughout time. As long as I so easily lose myself in others, I need to buffer my life some…I understand, as much as a person is driven to find someone else to keep himself safe, I am the only one who can INDEED hold my own life safely.
No one – with any intentions of anything – can manage that save me. And I am okay with that.
If you are reading this and looking for the point, you should have left at the beginning…because, beyond reminding myself of something I always forget, there isn’t one.
gryphon's hole 