I wonder why I write sometimes. To be honest, it can't be for the joy of it, because my fingers and hands cramp when I do. Maybe it is for the cartharsis. I would like to think that my putting to electronic pages my experiences and my pains will help someone one day. I don't know if it will or won't, but you know, it can't hurt.
I listened to NPR the other day. They had on a special about breakups. This young woman wrote to Phil Collins to help her write a song about the topic. He responded and gave her phone time. It was funny that I felt such a special kinshop with this heartbroken woman. I guess that we are in the same club: the lost and unwanted, so naturally I felt a connection. Why not us? Why someone else? Why so damn quickly? She talked about the gut-wrenching agony and the isolation that only lost love can bring. Hers was a familiar tale of deep love and commitment only to find it unrequited. Followed up by an unexpected breakup. Even though she went through this carthotic process, her last statement spoke pitifully of the thoughts that we forsaken ones all think: Do you think that he/she will take us back? Sadly, we believe that we can recapture that spark. Hers was a torch song, a testament to unquenchable love. I will love you forever and even if it is only for a short time, I wish only to bask in the warmth of your love. I remember telling a friend upon hearing about a couple breaking up after 18 years that I would sell my soul to have 18 years with my love.
It is not like the movies or romance novels, sadly. You can't make a person love you if they don't. Empty, hollow words. Uninspired! Trite! Acceptance is a terrible thing left in the institutional halls of some AA meeting. I grieve and I grieve deeply.
Does she even know what she has lost? Does she or did she even care? I would have climbed every mountain and scaled every city wall. Walked 500 miles...I would have. In my mind's eye, I see the emptiness that was once filled with sunshine. A supernova has come and gone leaving behind nothing.
Like Icarus, I tried to soar from my prison and like him, I strayed too near the brightness and was brought low. I also knowingly went too high and I accept the responsibility of my actions. However, I sit in among the ill-winds of my winter and find little solice in the possibility of another spring. Let the cold permeate my soul and freeze it solid! I want nothing ever again to hurt me.
And yet the only voice that is clear in the tempest of my anger is one that whispers:
Do you think that she will take me back?
Damn...
