The Hours Spent

For that really is what it comes down to when we imagine our time, and how we prioritize our lives. I might spend hours thinking about someone, seldom just something, more aptly someone, and everything else in my life becomes, or remains secondary. I do love to imagine life as being an easy transition from one learning experience to another. Though I have to say, my current state of … mind, is by far the most challenging I have endured for quite some time.To realize perspective it is the fear of every aspect of my life being simply defined by some might call an irrational decision. Though then there are others whom could certainly suggest instinct plays a huge role in deciding how and why we preoccupy our lives with the notions we do in the first place.

I walked into a world I didn’t belong. I wanted to be there, without question. There is something rather enticing about being able to feel something you once believed no longer existed, and that was my reality. I was suddenly drawn to a compassion that excited me, brought me to a place I wouldn’t trade for the world. I discovered truth, a setting in which a part of me became gradually unveiled, peeling away years of doubt and disbelief and disappointment. And yet, the real truth is that as easily as I could let myself fall, the ground no longer soft became a shattering of glass, shards of which that held a certain pale upon my heart.

I’m presently in a coffee shop, a place I love to find inspiration. The beautiful people, the unique personality of life, the observer of human nature that never fails to fascinate. At the same time, I am always sitting here waiting and hoping. In fact I’ve even been confronted on such, told that I would leave myself with certain expectations that could not possibly ever reach fruition. Yet I still show up.

There have been different periods of my life where I believed I could define the ultimate meaning of the term soul-mate. Oh, wonderful relationships where we might finish each other’s sentences, where our touch appeared so symbiotic we would suddenly catch ourselves and cry with genuine laughter. Then there are those moments when it is clear there is something askew about how our lives are meant to travel. In recent months I find I am at war with myself, and more recently, it is evident I am losing the battle.

I have spent hours of my life trying to figure out who I am. Not just recent months as one might imagine, but years and years and decades of indecision. I am traveling rapidly toward my 6th one, and I am still wondering when there might be a consistent happiness in my life. I thought i had found it, in fact, the truth is I still believe I have, but that is where the truth comes into play. The truth is there are not enough hours in the day to come to terms with the realistic nature of how love works in my life and what is the true determining factor of knowing how the essence of a soul-mate works its mystique.

I am sadly convinced I am not a model of the social standard. Rather instead I have found my heart is torn and ripped and left asunder in the magic of a passion far and away beyond the norm of my existence as a human being in our society. Yes, such a wordy and perhaps confusing explanation, but fitting with the cryptic nature of an explanation for what it means to live out so many hours of my life wondering.

I wonder, I wander, I trip upon aimless struggle to find consistency in the eye of love.

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