Late May, in 2013: a depressingly interesting quandary
Couldn’t sleep so I rose well before the dawn, read some news, thought about Diana and the growing distance I perceive. Suspect motivations tease my soul, trepidation, growing numbness in areas that intermittently seem so passionate. It’s hard to tell whether the time has been short or not, good cases can be made for both, mine that it hasn’t, hers that it has.
Dawn is about to break, my fast already has. Clouds blanket the landscape in layers as they frequently do here, adding their own special blends and weaves of beauty but my heart beats to decidedly ambivalent rhythms.
She didn’t call last night but she’s been ill. Still, she had time to post on Facebook replying warmly to another’s post. I’m pretty confused and not especially happy with where I am but don’t want to act precipitously. The reality is I’m confronting feelings that I’ve always had and that for the past seven years focused on her as the source, positive, beautiful feelings but tainted by situations I felt I couldn’t control, by fears of vulnerabilities I’d have to expose myself to, perhaps by the errors she claims I’ve made.
She is completely self-centered, I know that, but she’s also bright and beautiful, and at least deeply interested in spirituality and social justice, and I can’t deny the attraction whenever she’s present; it’s just that she’s present so seldom lately, and never unaccompanied. It’s as though she’s protecting herself from a relationship she too fears but perhaps, for selfish motives, wants to maintain. When she’s not here, when I’ve not interacted with her for a bit, my intellect has clear answers and definite suggestions.
But what if they’re wrong? What if I blow the chance, slim as it is, for that perfect relationship I’ve always sought?
A depressingly interesting quandary.
© Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2013; all rights reserved