Someone I was intimate with has written me a letter, and in it he referenced some of what he thinks my problems are, including this: ” an extreme amount of longing that is very difficult to bear sometimes.” Well, naturally I had to think about all that and here’s where I’m at: I actually kinda like it. I accept it. In fact, I’m sort of proud of it. I *do* have a sense of longing. Anyone who knows me or has even glanced at my writings can get that. I’m a Romantic. I think the very word ‘longing’ is romantic. It implies that there is a goal, and a dream, and a soft sigh from a yearning heart. It reminds me not to settle. It enforces that being alone is better than being in something unhealthy or unhappy (or both). Sure, I’d rather have a love and a partner, but based on what I’ve seen as my options so far, I’ll take the longing instead.
Now excuse me while I place the back of my hand to my forehead and fall (gracefully) into a lovely chaise lounge in tragic pose.
[Original Post: Tuesday, January 25, 2011 at 12:50pm]