Distressed, distressed, distressed.
If you knew how much, would it change a thing?

No. Not a thing.

Meh

I'm over trying to make a good impression.
I'd rather love and be loved for the beast within, than for how skillfully we stroke each other's egos.

In my fear of losing, I hold onto small pieces of my heart. Stacking them they form a barrier between myself and others. No one can get too close. When the inevitable day comes that someone is lost, I add and the barrier grows.

Day by day a little bigger, a little more comforting.

The Silhouette of You

And if fiercely you should come to me, I would meet you.
I would run to you.
Yet, there before me, the silhouette of you, against a fading horizon.
Further and further.
We're nothing now, just ghosts.

The hands of time stretched towards us.
Entangled together they pulled us together, now've torn us apart.
The way became lost. Blackened against the night sky, the once guiding stars no longer serve,
And we drift along
Alone again.
We drift.

But we remember. Oh, we fight it; we fight to forget, but how could we?
When we once danced the dance of love's fleeting mystery.
Only to find, we're now invisibly bound.
In another of life's great tragedies.

I am astonished, disappointed, pleased with myself. I am distressed, depressed, rapturous. I am all these things at once, and cannot add up the sum. I am incapable of determining ultimate worth or worthlessness; I have no judgment about myself and my life. There is nothing I am quite sure about. I have no definite convictions - not about anything, really. I know only that I was born and exist, and it seems to me that I have been carried along. I exist on the foundation of something I do not know.
—
C.G. Jung, near the end of his life, in Memories, Dreams.

…dear, one more sigh
only this, dear, is goodbye
for our love is such pain and such pleasure
that I’ll treasure…

La Vie en Rose

Night descends. The darkness can't be held back as it envelopes the landscape, as far as the eye can see, in pallid shades of black. A daily phenomenon. The retreating sun and the lingering night. I don't spend nearly enough of my waking hours paying attention to these truly incredible occurrences. Much too much time is spent contemplating life on every level, save the very present moment and the present miracle of life that occurs with or without my paying attention. A breath of life, breathed to give life, to create life and without a second thought from myself - the one for whom it gives life. I don't have to ask for it, to work for it, to even realize it exists or desire to exist myself and there it is. Perhaps I take for granted these small miracles. They don't require my approval nor my consent, they happen beyond my awareness, and selflessly persist and exist. Thus I, persist and exist.

Should I ask "What for?" - I'm afraid to ask, but this question likes to linger in the shadow of my consciousness. Living examples of such simple complexity, the processes of life, may I ask what for? For no good reason? Perplexing to imagine that there may be no reason for any of this at all, don't you think? No, maybe let's not ask why anymore. Our human nature longs to have what it can't have. This is nothing new. To demand an answer is to confine nature to a pattern, to give it a textbook definition. Have you noticed that the deeper your desire to know all and have the answers goes, the intenser the anxiety, the greater the fear? Knowing is not our reward. Our reward comes from the acceptance of letting go. Allow the night to fall and the sun will rise tomorrow whether you like it or not.

 You can fight the setting sun, but what good will come of it? Tomorrow, the sun will rise with effortless ease and you'll wake up refreshed. The night must happen. It is not yours to control, it never was, it never will be.

Hush now and sleep in peace through your night.

Letters to a Young Poet

So don't be frightened, dear friend, if a sadness confronts you larger than any you have ever known, casting its shadow over all you do. You must think that something is happening within you, and remember that life has not forgotten you; it holds you in its hand and will not let you fall. Why would you want to exclude from your life any uneasiness, any pain, any depression, since you don't know what work they are accomplishing within you?

In the world we live in,
what we know and what we don't know are like Siamese twins.
Inseparable, existing in a state of confusion.

Confusion, confusion.

Who can really distinguish between the sea and what's reflected in it?
Or tell the difference between the falling rain and loneliness?

Sometimes a butterfly will come to sit in your open palm, but if you close your hand, one way or the other, it—and its choice to be there—is gone.

-~ Barbara Hambly (Dragonsbane)

Always Better Said as a Song

NO ORDINARY LOVE by ANGO

I guess, the good news in all this is that I once vehemently believed I would never feel anything for anyone again.

And then I did.

Thanks?

Except now I am stuck feeling sad and missing. Again, feeling like maybe I'm just not cut out to find the mysterious, lasting love for myself.

Un-Valentines

The wind whispers your smile,
Across the lake
Under starry skies
To a place I have not yet shown you
To a place
Where
My heart resides.

-- GG