yobech505

Transitions

I’m not in the frame of mind I was a few months ago.  Thank the gods of Valhalla for that.  Being rather emotionally drained is a pain in the fore point of contact, and way too distracting to life in the median.  Don’t like feeling crappy and don’t want to dwell on aspects that drain the good things.

I suppose I had to go through what I did, but I have yet to see why?  I’ve done it before and really have no inner, outer or otherwise desire to experience anything like it again.  Also don’t see the need for why it had to show it’s redundant fanny again. So damn the missiles, we’re going in!

Or is it out?

I feel better.  It’s the ‘time’ thing, the healer, so I’ve been consistently brain refreshed by well wisher.  Either that, or the whole thing was a superficial mind blog to begin with, which could easily be the true value of the situation. Not that it’s a bad thing, since I felt emotionally involved, at least at the moments when I was feeling like I did. It felt good.

So I have moved along, no longer enslaved by the stupidness of the emotional twine that was attaching me to things I probably had no business being connected with in the first place.  I have transitioned into a new time warp, leaving the old one somewhere amongst the old faded dishes I put in a box for the Salvation Army.  I haven’t forgotten, just categorized.  Not a life changing factor, not a growth enhancer, not something that I need even be concerned with.  Just something that happened, and, given the person that I probably want people to think I am,  will probably happen again.

I, however, am probably no wiser, no more aware, no more wary of the mistakes I will grasp and embrace in the future.  I learned only that it won’t happen again, at least not with her.  But elsewhere, I’m sure I’ll set myself up again.

Or I could find the person who’s been looking for me for the last 45 or so anniversaries of Christmas.  I could find a true lover, friend, companion who will spend the next 20 years of our lives with me.  And damn if I don’t have every inclination to have a good time doing just one thing, having fun.

Future marble searches will have to answer that, however.  Because I’ll be damned if I have even the slightest idea what will be hiding behind any of the curtains.  I suppose I will find a bag of cat’s eyes, but they may not be the ones I lost.  Don’t really care, though, as long as I have them and pretend I never lost them in the first place.

So, on we go.  No more the lost human, suffering with a broken heart amongst the tomato plants of other experiences that influenced me over the decades.  None the wiser, nor the stronger for all of it, set in a direction that takes me in circles and brings me back to where I didn’t realize that what I was doing was pure asinine.

This doesn’t forego a new beginning.  Obviously, I have to start over.  Can I do it without the anticipation of euphoria, the best feelings, the deepest emotions?  Not me.  If I am not a romantic in any other comprehension of the spoken motif, I certainly am there.  I want to be in love.  And once I am, I do not, ever, at any time, want to be out of it.  It feels too good.

Who’s idea was it to bet on the long shot, anyway?