It's one of those nights again. I can't get my brain to shut off and consequently I'm up at nearly 3 AM. Recently I've started thinking I should do something creative--that I should start a project and actually finish it, to be precise. It wouldn't matter whether the project consisted of writing fiction, creating a video game, maintaining a regular daily blog about something that impassions me. I've simply felt like my imagination and creativity are going to waste.
New information recently came to light and is playing with my head in unexpected ways. My mother, who--via Facebook--keeps in touch with my recent ex-boyfriend, casually informed me that the ex in question has presently finished moving to Kansas City, Missouri. To my surprise and mild indignation, I find myself growing increasingly saddened by this. I was under the impression that I'd managed to move on, but apparently the dramatically increased distance between us forces me to address the fact that he's now far less likely to show up on my doorstep or run into me at a mall or restaurant, resulting in the rekindling of the unbelievably beautiful romance we shared. It seems that like an industrious (yet deranged) little squirrel, a part of me has secretly been guarding a private stash of longing or perhaps hope for this wonderful man to return to me and tell me that he regrets turning me away when I expressed my desire to work through our problems together. How odd it feels to discover these buried feelings because of the very same information that quite clearly reminds me that such desires are improbable enough to resign them to the realm of foolish fantasy.
I find myself taking all the blame upon my own shoulders and wishing to incorporate thoughts and feelings about our failed romance into the creative project I've been hoping to undertake. It feels like perhaps it would make an appropriate remembrance to honor the passion, tenderness and magic that we shared. It might also serve well as a kind of penance for my letting my pride, fear and inaction run unchecked for so long. I particularly like the idea of a retelling of our story from the perspective of a past (or even future) life. I fear I would make a rather compelling villain or fool. It would be interesting to see how strangers would react to it, unable to form opinions based on loyalty--familial or otherwise.
What pains me the most is the slow realization that despite the pain or sorrow I may feel in any given moment, my heart (soul? consciousness?) seemingly remains unconnected to those of the ones I love most. I so unerringly wish to believe that we are all connected, that when a child is injured the parent can sense it; that when you are in terrible pain from missing one you will always love, they will sense it and contact you. Sadly, this rarely (if ever) happens. No one will have sensed that I genuinely shed tears this evening, or that I felt lost, confused, foolish and alone. The evening will join the ranks of other forgotten evenings and I will have no choice but to smile and stay positive despite the lingering sadness. Little by little, I fear life is whittling away at my belief in the divine interconnectedness of everything. I don't want to lose that. If only evidence would cease its relentless indications to confirm how very wrong that belief seems to be.
There's also the matter of another wonderful man who loves me dearly. I love him most dearly as well and cherish his presence in my life. I adore him and though he drives me insane, I can see myself living a very happy life with him. The passion I felt for my ex, however, proves a sizable hurdle. It reminds me incessantly that our love is much more fraternal than I dreamed I would share with the man I chose to spend my life with. It lacks that incredible intensity I shared with my ex, and I fear it always will. That having been said, I know he has the kindness, gentleness, patience and genuinely unconditional love to give me the life-long relationship I've always wanted. But is a lifelong relationship that feels rather more like a friendship than a romance sufficient to fulfill my eternal desire to share true love with someone? I cannot shake this feeling of confusion.
What is more important: a strong, healthy, intellectual, interesting, meaningful friendship; or a passion and love so deep that months can pass without any manner of contact and my heart still stirs with buried feelings of longing, tenderness, joy and sorrow at the thought of him? Will I miss him for the rest of my life, always wondering what might have been if I had feared nothing and held nothing back? I'm sure psychologists would say that my love for the man who is currently in my life is far healthier, more rational and stable. Then again, I've never really believed love to be rational, stable or even healthy! I can't help but smile when I remember how wonderful the passion of intense love can feel and how logical it seems that such intense love would come with less predictably and stability. The hotter a fire burns, the more difficult it is to predict, control or contain. It's only natural that a love that burns hotter would have similarly uncontrollable qualities.
I dream of being fifty, seeing my partner of 50 years come through the door and still getting butterflies just at the sight of him. Some people have that kind of love, and oh how I envy them! Perhaps that day will come in the least expected of ways. For now, my fatigue at last outweighs my insomnia and I am off to bed. May we all live our lives with love in our hearts and the knowledge that when we treat one another with genuine love, that warmth will spread and multiply, inevitably making a difference to countless hearts and nurturing a world that's an infinitely happier place.
