Why Am I Still Here
Profoundly intimate, long term relationships are confusing things at best but become incomprehensible when multiplied, even if the multipliers are sequential rather than concurrent. One is magical, two interesting, three optimistic, but what of the fourth? Is it desperate, hopeless, at best not very optimistic?
It’s certainly not secure, not after so many strikes, and because it’s based on more information, it’s not as easy to accept. Having tried on so many partners, one starts to discover, if not totally what one wants, pretty much all those things one does not want or does not want to tolerate, and an autonomous lifestyle starts seeming, if not more desirable, somewhat more acceptable.
Hope remains but it has become dry and brittle, quite faded in fact. It has to be used sparingly and that too frequently leads to hoarding, so much so that perhaps one day one realizes it isn’t being used at all, merely cherished.
And that day perhaps, one asks, why am I still here?
 © Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Ocala, Florida, 2007; all rights reserved