My Heart's Had Enough

  I'm not very good at love.

  I've always thought I was, but all the evidence points otherwise.  I'd like to believe that I'm the Henry DeTamble, the steady reassuring force that gives someone the will and confidence to enjoy life, and who receives the same in kind, while in reality, I am Charlie Brown, holding on to the crayon left behind by the Little Red-Haired Girl, watching a world of possibilities rise and fall in front of him.

  I'd love for that to be the limit of my skills, but you can also add "Standing idly by while people leave" to my CV.

  The other day, I was in a shop while Al Green's  "Love Is A Beautiful Thing" played over the PA, and caught myself thinking, for the first time ever, "No it isn't, it's utter crap!" - the expectation of those who are not yet loved, the crippling panic, the loneliness it causes in its absence.  Thanks, but you can keep it, reverend.

  There is nothing like the emotional surge when you meet someone you like, who stands out from everyone else in the room.  Every time you're in the same room as them, there's an electricity, an elevation in the senses, and you'd do anything to put a smile on that person's face and make them happy.

  When that expectation nosedives into a bout of unrequited love, however, it knocks you sick.  There is, equally, nothing quite like that feeling either.  The aching sadness of one more special person in the world who doesn't like you 'like that' is a lead weight, no matter how philosophical you try to be, no matter how much you proclaim (as true as it genuinely is) that you're glad to know that person.

  And so you plod on, waiting for that exchanged moment of eye contact that could conduct lightning, hoping for a moment that sets the process off all over again, trying to be nonchalant (and occasionally failing).

  I don't know what I want out of life, I'm pretty sure it doesn't involve being a father, I'm also pretty sure it does involve music, but I'm heartsick now.  I've had enough.  My heart's had enough.  I'd be happy to keep going as I am and not have a care in the world, but that old loneliness stabs at my core whenever I have an unguarded moment (which occurs quite a lot, what with my head being in the clouds and such), and it can't be fought at every turn.  I just have to walk on and swallow down this empty ache every five steps.

  Mourning the past, enjoying the present, worrying about the future.  Why change old habits?