Life slips away…don’t you know?
It slides right through our fingers, like sand…or water.
It’s so easy for it to slide past us, to wash behind us, and before we even realize it…
Years have gone by.
Oh, but yeah, the memories are there. And they are precious. And treasured.
But when you’re sitting home, alone, with no one to hold, no one to love, to care… At the end of the day.
The sand slips through your fingers like regret burns.
It’s the hazard of the way I’ve lived my life, I guess.
Not to settle for less than love.
Which means I end up alone.
Because the sand in my hourglass is over halfway through, and who wants to invest in that?
Don’t answer. It’s a stupid question.
And I already know the answer, anyway.
I’ve pushed them all away, at some point, so I guess some part of me feels as though I deserve to be alone.
Another year, another measure of sand through that hourglass.
Everyone tells me
“You have to hang onto the good times!” (Live in the past, it’s the only good thing left for you now!)
“There’s someone out there for you, if you stop looking, they’ll find you.” (If I “stopped looking” any harder, I’d poke both my eyes out, honestly.)
And, one of my personal favorites…
“If you’d put yourself out there a little more, smile more, you’d find somebody”. (Just be someone else, anyone else, other than yourself, cause bitch – you depressing!)
You know what? Fuck that.
If someone is going to love me, they have to love all of it. Anxiety, depression, PTSD, along with the good stuff, the random gift-giving, the snuggling, the back rubs, the kinky sex, the off-color jokes, the random trivia, the insomnia, the random TV & movie obsessions I sometimes get, the odd music I listen to, the love of RPG gaming, all of it. (They don’t have to love my being Pagan, just accept it & not try to change me)
The same as I would have to love all their weird quirks, and learn to live with, or at least compromise with, theirs.
That’s what love is.
It’s NOT about the first flush of passion & the rush of lust that floods your hormones with fire and sparks.
It’s NOT about the lovey dovey eyegasms people give each other from across the room when they first start dating.
And it’s NOT about the giggly phone conversations saying “You hang up”, …”NO, YOU hang up…”
It’s about rubbing your partner’s feet at the end of a long day, because he has to walk a lot in hard boots in cold weather.
It’s about cooking dinner while she grabs a shower, because her brain feels like mush after a long day of dealing with stupid people on the phone.
It’s about not killing each other over how you load the dishwasher, or how you fold towels, or whether you fold, roll-up, or fold-into-themselves your socks before they go in your drawer.
I’m just tired, I guess.
Sometimes I wish I had someone here to share everything with. I hate that I come home alone, every night, to an empty house. That there’s no one here to take care of but the cats.
(They’re assholes, but I know at least Sally loves me. She says so every time I sneeze. Truly. I sneeze -she cries & jumps in my lap & checks on my face)
And I’ve gone down the rabbit-hole tangent.
I know I’ll be alone.
It’s difficult sometimes, being on my own.
I’m not used to it, and I don’t really like it. I’d rather have someone to take care of, and someone who will take care of me back.
But – this is where I am.
Whether through past choices I made, or whatever, this is where I’ve ended up.
And the hourglass doesn’t run the other direction.
I have no idea how much time is left.
So, I guess the memories will have to do.