Even though I am right in the middle of some of the nastiest blues I have experienced in quite some time, I think that I am - ultimately an opitimist. Or at least an idealist.
I believe in such things as true love, soul mates, magic. I believe in tribes and families and home. I think that people can love for a lifetime, and that true joy and happiness are real possibilities.
I also think that maybe I have a few intimacy issues, and I choose others who have the same.
My friends (male friends - I might add) - who occasionally talk me through me relationship woes, always get to the point - "What do you WANT"? If I tell you, please don't laugh at me, because it sounds really really stupid.
I want to love and to be loved, in somewhat equal measure. I want to be with someone who feels like he is my home.
Truth be told though, I think that this will never happen, because I think if thats what I really wanted, thats exactly what I would have. Maybe next life? Are all my love affairs this time round going to be "almost, but not quite?" I've been greatly loved, by people who I just couldn't love enough in return. I have loved greatly, but only people who are just not quite... available.
What happens when an optimist runs out of hope?
The maddening, infuriating thing about the current romantic speactacular is this: On those few occasions, where we really touch - I feel like I have woken up. And then I am furious, because I don't WANT to go back to sleep.
I know the rain clouds will eventually disperse, and I will find myself again. But I don't have time for this sad stuff right now... it's a luxury I cannot afford. This happens EVERY time Nick comes to visit. He leaves, and I feel like my soul has just been sucked out again. I hate myself, my life, and I doubt everyone and everything in it.
Perhaps I should go back on anti-depressants, just for when he is here.
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