I find a certain solace in the fact that I have always gone to the moon (and neptune) over love.
Once for my country and once for a boy and once for a mirage.
I love my husband even today. I love him so hard it would make me go into the black numbness if I didn't force myself to not think about it so much.
More than anything, I wish that I had done it right. I wish I had been who I thought I was. I wish that we could live in Wilmington with our two houses with a water element a piece (one with a bitchin' hottub and huge shady yard - the other with a bitchin' pond ((built by my ole lovah kent)) and a yard you could be nude in ((and yes, I have done nude yoga in it several times)). ).
I wish happy times never end. I wish that I would remember that I was very miserable in the times I now view as innocent and happy.
Life is so easy in the retrospect. You think it all worked out fine and that it was all due to your good graces.
I have fucked my life like a motherfucker.
If I allowed myself the luxury (and I do for about twenty minutes every few days or so - or a long dark night of the soul), I would crumple.
I wish that I had a fire from which to motivate myself. I regret that I am alone, but I understand it. I understand that I may always be alone. I am quite quite picky in my mates and tire of many without anything different done on mates' part.
I am afraid I am damaged and that no one will ever love me.
I am afraid that I will want to be loved and will suck the life from whomever is dangerous enough to take me on.
I know I am worthy. I know I am a mythical goddess to many.
It isn't arrogant. I have many many many amazing qualities. If motivated (by love) I can rock anyone's socks off in the sack. I really enjoy sex when I am in love. What a dumb thing to say.
I know I can be cruel and bored when not in love.
I know I am a monster.
I know I am insane.
How could I end this? What am I even trying to tell you?
Don't I say the same thing at every posting?
Don't I want you to try me?
Aren't I mad that you are a coward?
Don't worry. I have had many a coward in my life.
I am sure I am one to in many ways, but
never in love.
With love I will jump out of a plane and bring a sack containing my grandmother's green and yellow and cream crocheted throw, my books by my peeps (well maybe not even these), a few photos, my choice of the beloved, memory-filled clothes I've collected over the years.
For love, I will show up at a train station with all the money I could steal, borrow, and pawn. I will go with you to a town where no one knows us. I will work as a toll booth operator. I will read and use oil lamps. I will camp. I would live in a double-wide. I would drink the cheapest wine palatable.
Of course, without love, I am just a scared human among 6 billion of my fellow humans typing at a screen and wafting away until death.