Melon-choly Caroline owns up

I'm just saying that because I had some canteloupe with my supper (a goat-cheese mushroom quesadilla).

As my exceedingly active day draws to a close, I find myself tiring, and my mind is turning to thoughts of friendship and romance. I don't often allow myself to think long on this subject, lest I get teary-eyed. Friendship, romance...shouldn't the thought of those make me smile happily, or at least, wistfully? Hmmm...more often than not, I find myself frowning. Something always seems to be amiss.

Perhaps as optimistic as I am in my life, I find myself a true non-believer in lasting love, in lasting *anything*. At least, where my own life is concerned. And that's probably why I don't like to think too long on it. It seems as elusive as a lifelong search for religious meaning (which for me will probably be a lifelong search). I have no trouble being utterly happy for others who find faith in their God, or in love...I fully believe it's possible for them, simply because they believe in it. I don't think they are fooling themselves, as I so often do with me.

I'm thinking of old boyfriends and lovers and wondering how they are now. Just because I don't want a particular person in my everyday life doesn't mean that I don't want to talk to them on occasion. I still love them, and I miss them and the certain patterns of interaction we had. I need to remind myself that some of them (the more physically connected ones) would not be good for to resume interaction with. This thought makes me sad.

Some of the people I'm thinking of tonight I have turned my back on, and others have turned their back on me. When I think about other humans and my relationships' waxings and wanings, all that really is clear is that there is pain involved in both acts. It sounds dramatic, I suppose--but most of the time that's what happens. So much energy, so much interaction is given to one person, that when the connection and love blossoms, eventually there isn't anything left to give.

What? To "run out of love?" I don't believe that can happen--but at the same time (and I HATE to admit this) that's about all I think is finite when it comes to me and other humans. All the happy and sad moments there are that you could experience together at some point seem to have already happened. Any future connections with whichever person don't seem likely to exist again...ever. And so, with this unreasonable, fickle "faith", what do I do? I pack my bags and go.

This thought also makes me sad.

Of course when some of the happier memories come to mind, somehow the big picture of the "not right for me" person fades and I'm left with a memory of how they smelled, or the magic of a shared kiss, or reminiscence of the world falling away as both get wrapped up in the presence of the other. A memory of the connection between we two stays palpable. When I think of people I love, I am amazed how different every person, every connection was. If I slide back into the memory of those moments, it's visceral to me. Literally. I get a strong pang deep inside myself, just as if I were experiencing it again.

So that's it, then. Something's got to give way. I cannot in good conscience ignore these patterns for a lifetime. Sometimes just owning up to the fact that I am capable and all-too-ready to push people away would be helpful. I'm all too ready to assume my life will, in the end, be just me. I assume, predict even, that I can't be settled with anyone at all, because I will never *really* be settled. For the record, "settled" to me, means not so much white picket fences and "best friends 4-ever" lockets, but rather having faith that another friend will be unswaying, unswerving when it comes to me. I know, however, that until I am unswaying, unswerving, TRULY, with myself, that those thoughts will remain. Until then, I guess I can't be unswaying, unswerving to the, either.

Does this, too, make me sad? You bet it does.

I think it's about time to succumb to minor-keyed dreams.