Pencil sketch on index card
It’s so strange, this life. It’s strange that one can be in a room full of people and yet still feel alone and how when a heart is filled with love, even if one is by oneself, one still feels sustained and not lonely. Most times I simply ignore a whole lot. I pretend that all is fine and that I am fulfilled. I spend so much of my time making a living and attending to others that it leaves me tired and spent. I escape into sleep but awaken unrested… tired and dissatisfied, as if I’d forgotten a most crucial ingredient out of my spaghetti sauce but can’t quite put my finger on which one it is. Most days I simply ignore that slight incongruence, and eat the food and make like I like it. Other days it just doesn’t work so well, and I quietly call my own bluff. Today is such a day, I suppose.
Valentine’s day is just a few days away, and I can look forward to a card with a few words in it. Nothing meaningful, because I know in my heart that such a thing between us has long since been extinguished. I’ve been alone for so long now that I’m not sure what I would do if I wasn’t. There’s a certain comfort in it. Never having my expectations dashed because I don’t have any. I still dream of being wholly loved, sometimes, and awaken with wet cheeks-my eyes leak of their own accord. Sometimes I dream that I have that most elusive thing, and feel as though a fire flutters in my chest like a butterfly and burns like the sun. I dream that I am loved for all that I am… cherished. Then I awaken to… now… this.
I often wonder what it is that I’ve done to deserve it, this void. Is this what it’s like to be dead, I wonder? This nothingness. Except for the sex… which is like a giant black dwarf threatening to implode upon itself and suck everything right along with it into darkness.
Does this love that I’ve been hoping to find in my lifetime even exist, or is it the sawdust that stuffs the fairytales of the world? Is it something hoped for but never attained? There have been moments in my life when I would have sworn otherwise… when I was certain that there was such a thing, because it burned hot and bright, almost consuming me. But… when a fire burns and there is no one to stoke it, eventually it loses its fuel and is extinguished. How can it be so hard to find another whose heart burns as brightly for you as yours does for them and still being able to keep the fires stoked and burning? It is a mystery to me.
My heart beats for my son… he is its driving force and while the fire ebbs and flows there is an ember amidst the others which shall never burn out, miraculously infinite. Oh… wait… it is unconditional love… a mother’s love for her child.