waiting to fall to droplets

Wow.

Sometimes there just aren't the right words to describe where you're at, or what you feel like you need, or what you know you've lost. Life is such a strange and funny thing, andjust when you think you understand it, or yourself, life throws you a curve... a sharp pain in the heart, a stab in the back, a crappy job or a mediocre life. I always thought I was meant for more than mediocrity.

Most of it, honestly, stems from loneliness. Stems from me discovering (sometimes too slowly) that maybe I am a difficult person to love. Not in a superficial sense, because my life is full of surface-love, of great but quick conversations and people you meet once and never see again. My life is full of people complimenting me on my openness, my personality, and all of those things that are supposed to be really important. But when it comes to the really importantstuff, I am a letdown. I fall short. I don't return calls. I have a hard time following through with things because of my spontaneous nature.

Today, I saw a picture of someone I recently loved. Of someone I felt like I was real with, and that really understood me, in all of my indecisions and all of my weakness and failures. Someone that wouldn't let me play the victim. Someone that graced my doorstep with roses and kind words to let me know how beautiful I am. I know this sounds insane, but sometimes, it hurts my heart to know they could be happy without me. That they could know me completely, all my struggles and all of the layers of my heart, and still be content to live without that. That they could move on quickly and not look back. And in the long run, I will look back and realize that they weren't worth it, or that we weren't meant to happen, despite our chemistry and our conversations until 2 am. That maybe he didn't fight hard enough for me when it got rough, or even when things were easy.

Maybe those things will register. Maybe not. But the more I reach into myself and the more I explore this weird thing that is my soul... I realize that maybe the problem isn't in them. Maybe it's not. And it forces me to look in the mirror and realize that maybe it's in me. That I can't play the victim when I am equally, if not more, to blame.

I spent one night this week alone in my room, a glass of wine and candles lit, trying to be content in solitude. But by the time a half hour had rolled around, I was in tears, dialing numbers and getting voicemails, clinging to the hope that maybe they were thinking of me too.

And I suppose that since then, I have my answer. In myspace pictures, in unresolved messages, in sleepless nights and in broken tears.

If I am in this place to learn to be alone, I am doing well. If I am travelling this confusing road to learn peace and contentedness in solitude, then I'm well on my way.

Just getting there is the hard part.