It’s Sunday night, I’ve had a very quiet, contemplative weekend and, as I slipped into bed, it started raining gently outside my open window. I love the rain.

I’m a jumble of thoughts & emotions this weekend, my friends.

What is love, to you? Is it undying devotion and passion? Is it companionship and familiarity? Is it mutual respect and common goals? Maybe it’s a big pot and each relationship is its own unique stew; more sex, less affection, more respect, less passion, or something like that.

I know what it’s not. It’s not dependence disguised as friendliness. It’s not willful ignorance of a partner’s needs. It’s not neglect. It’s not callous rejection. It’s not passing the buck. It’s not abuse.

I love the rain, but darn if it doesn’t bring on the melancholy thoughts. Of course, it could be my quiet house and being left to my own thoughts all weekend, it could be the stack of bills that need paying, or it could be that the Eagles lost today, but I’m laying here wondering if I am meant to be loved. Maybe I’m not; some people aren’t, I think. I’m not looking for pity or assurances; I’m just thinking through a possibility. Am I one of those unloveable people? Do I hold people at a distance and prevent them from loving me? Maybe it’s just me.

I have loved and lost. It’s devastating. At what point do I just turn off the ability to feel romantic love? Will time, loneliness, and lack of affection drive it away? Because I hurt right now, and I’ve been hurting awhile now, and I’m ready for that to stop. How do I not care? I have heard, and witnessed, those who can apparently turn it off at will. Maybe that’s a skill I can learn.

Instead I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve. I weep, sometimes a lot, sometimes uncontrollably, for all that I felt, treasured, hoped and lost.

Laying here, listening to the rain, I should be sleeping. Instead I’m trying to talk the hope right out of my head. Always hopeful, often disappointed. When will I learn?

No answers are forthcoming tonight, friends, so I’ll drop this missive into the ether and get ready for a new day.

Good night, Gracie.



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