of interest

I remembered something that I wrote last fall, in Nebraska I think. This is it.

I've learned to accept a lot of things in and about my life. I know that I cannot change most things. I can only change how I look at things. I accept how great and awful things can be. It's hard and frustrating and heartbreaking. this said, there is one thing that I cannot accept: that I am alone, that I have to be, that I was born to be. There are many people who I share commonalities with, people who I am like. there just seems to be something missing. One part of me that's not in them. Soul hunger. Can I give that part of myself to someone else? Would they even know that's what I am doing? Regardless, there comes a point when being alone gets old. It starts with the idea that it's only temporary, that sometime soon something else will come along. Then comes the virtuosity of being alone. The joy of solitude. Oh, how glorious it is to bask in its vast palette of opportunity. Then is ambivalence, or just not having time to notice. And when you stop and breathe out, you see how at every turn you wished there was someone there. Because what is a sunset, a view, an adventure, and idea, without someone else to share it with? After a time these thins seem futile, mediocre, empty, wasted. It's difficult to describe beautiful for someone. It's easy to show them.

It was after writing this that I told myself I was going to start really living. Even if it hurt, or didn't make any sense. I think it's working.