Yee of Too Much Faith
There is a void in my heart of ever decreasing magnitude, soon to be shriveled up and replaced entirely by an iron plate of nonchalance and indifference. This isn’t the growing experience I’d anticipated, but it is a lesson of unexpected and profound discoveries about my character.
I don’t think I’ll continue vying for a game plan with an elapsed expiration date. Ex post facto romance? Sounds like a recipe for disaster. In an emotional age where anything is possible, I can’t help but question the practical utility of fighting so diligently for a few more months of sidestepping the inevitable truth: incompatibility cannot be trumped by persistence.
It is my experience (both first-hand and observational) that the balance of give and take in a relationship is rarely, if ever equal. There is usually some margin of role swapping, but with the exception of a few surprises and unforeseen gestures (with unmistakeable motives, of course), the players remain the same. As self-centered as I usually tend to be in most non-love related circumstances, in the realm of romance, I live up to the expectation of my Zodiac sign: my selflessness kicks in to high gear, thus beginning the push-pull fiasco that will ultimately drain me. Never expecting anything in return, even the smallest thoughtful gesture drives another nail into the coffin of my independence. It’s a cycle destined for failure, moving forward in full force with nothing but emotional dependence to steer the way.
After months of digging through the debris that was my relationship, I may have stumbled across something worth salvaging: an expectation-free friendship. However, I’ve been so disillusioned by a combination of new surroundings and sleeping alone that I’ve failed to recognize it until now. I suppose I saw it as a remnant of what was; ashes that, with enough nurture and time, would be reconstructed into a bigger, better breed of love.
Wrong again, oh yee of too much faith.
I’m conflicted, of course. I’m overstocked with love to give with no worthwhile potential buyers except the one I’ve just deemed off-limits. I’ll be the first to admit that I find this ever-present solitude to be mortifyingly saddening. After years of dress rehearsals, I’ve discovered truth in what they say about success meaning nothing if we have no one to share it with. But…! Success means even less if we force feed it down our partner’s throat. I don’t want that.
220 miles away from my home base, and I continue to be going no where too fast. Just what exactly do I intend to accomplish by sitting around, waiting for life to happen for me?
