I just reread my last post and I like it so much. There is a certain peace when I read it and a groundedness that I have waited a long and lonely time for.
My fingers almost don't even want to type the words or thoughts for fear they will disappear before my eyes. I seem to always have that in the back of my mind. I can be left, and easily. However, I had a great 3rd and 4th date, almost back to back, and now this moves into the realm of exclusive because once intimacy starts there really is not room in my heart, head, morals, for more than one. And it is a huge bridge to cross, going from casual "whatever may be," to "what might this be?" That is just how my head works, I never was one to not fall in the fire.
There is a whole newness before my eyes again, like I am seeing the sparks of what could develop into great fondness and love (and again, I know me, these two things don't take long..) But it has been a long and lonely time since I saw that or even thought about it again, in a real sense. Mostly it has just been a heart ache of a lot of longing for what has left me, more so than what could be again. It seems in the darkest hour that there is no "new" there is no "future" because the present just goes on and on, and there is no joy to be found.
I don't know if my little spark I found in the world of match making might become a much larger fire. I know what I hope and think about, but I am trying to stay somewhat rational, in looking at the time table of things. There now has become the longing, when will I see you again, it is amazing how fast it zips in, like it has been just sitting there in the shadows waiting to be seen again. My life could be full again, and that prospect makes me happy. I see love like another form of art, and how I love loving someone. There really is nothing like it. Yet love that is not real, difficult, deceitful, always in motion never constant, never for sure, those parts I have felt, and those are not something to want. It just leaves the heart in a constant state of upheaval.
What I seek this time around, is a deep constant, unending love, that as Shakespeare says, "Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom."
My fingers almost don't even want to type the words or thoughts for fear they will disappear before my eyes. I seem to always have that in the back of my mind. I can be left, and easily. However, I had a great 3rd and 4th date, almost back to back, and now this moves into the realm of exclusive because once intimacy starts there really is not room in my heart, head, morals, for more than one. And it is a huge bridge to cross, going from casual "whatever may be," to "what might this be?" That is just how my head works, I never was one to not fall in the fire.
There is a whole newness before my eyes again, like I am seeing the sparks of what could develop into great fondness and love (and again, I know me, these two things don't take long..) But it has been a long and lonely time since I saw that or even thought about it again, in a real sense. Mostly it has just been a heart ache of a lot of longing for what has left me, more so than what could be again. It seems in the darkest hour that there is no "new" there is no "future" because the present just goes on and on, and there is no joy to be found.
I don't know if my little spark I found in the world of match making might become a much larger fire. I know what I hope and think about, but I am trying to stay somewhat rational, in looking at the time table of things. There now has become the longing, when will I see you again, it is amazing how fast it zips in, like it has been just sitting there in the shadows waiting to be seen again. My life could be full again, and that prospect makes me happy. I see love like another form of art, and how I love loving someone. There really is nothing like it. Yet love that is not real, difficult, deceitful, always in motion never constant, never for sure, those parts I have felt, and those are not something to want. It just leaves the heart in a constant state of upheaval.
What I seek this time around, is a deep constant, unending love, that as Shakespeare says, "Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom."
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