Je t'aime

I believe that anything I have ever written has been for one person.  The suffering has to amount to something and if that means I can weave a web of entertaining or touching or melancholic words, than I suppose it's all been worth it.  No matter the cost I am compelled to write my story.  The heartbreak.  The loneliness.  The suffocation of my own existence.  I believe myself to be too unstructured to write in the conventional sense.  There is no place for feeling in our contemporary times.  Sensationalism is far too seductive a technique.  I mean not to sensationalize;  If only to tell my truth and to have the world bend its ear in my general direction.  How fabulous to be recognized in one's own time.  Perhaps I blow my own horn a tad too hard.  I have been known to be of the dramatic.

All histrionics aside, I want to abide by a life of creativity and passion.  Far too often the passion escapes me as the sadness settles in but we all must learn to press on.  I have loved.  A great and mysterious and unsuspecting love.  My eyes met his and that was it for me.  To this day I don't think he truly realizes the extent.  I don't really either.  I know that the majority of my major life's decisions have been based on that love.  It's so difficult for me to write when I'm happy.  I wonder if my words will ever be worth the price I've paid for them.

I remember you everyday.

The notion of impermanence has risen in my thoughts as of late.  I'm reading about several great thinkers in history who walked their own original path, often against the societal conflict they faced.  Could I ever be so courageous?  Could I ever grow so weary of these expectations to, as Stevie Nicks so eloquently puts it, go my own way?  The grace and inevitability of change is not lost on me.  I just wonder at what cost to my heart these changes must progress.  I suppose I need to adopt the concept that just because something is in memory, does not automatically diminish its worth.  How do I go on living a life in which I know parts of it have gone unlived?  I have not lived through the great love I thought I could have because life in all of its intricacies got in the way.  Life sometimes moves too fast for love and now I must accept that you have moved on, to have great love with another.  I have followed you to the edges of my sanity and now I must face this emptiness alone.