It's Awfully Late but the Stars are Still Awake

Or is it early?  I start a new job in two days.  My schedule is going to change DRASTICALLY and it looks like this needs to start tomorrow instead of today.

It's been a self-analytical night.  And I believe that I've been melancholy.  I have proof of this.  I did not go out tonight.  I got all dressed up and then I paused as I was putting my coat on and I thought "I don't want to do this."  And it had absolutely nothing to do with the company I was on my way to keep, as they are all incredibly lovely people.  It had everything to do with me.  And this was alarming, as I'm not an antisocial person.  I thrive in company.  But tonight I just could not, and I do not know why.

Going against type is quite a wake-up call, and during my analysis of my odd behavior I came up with a clue.  So I'm going to share something that I just wrote a little while ago, and perhaps it'll help both of us understand what's going on in my head.  And my heart.

Stars call to me, is it me alone?  Can I wander through the darkness alone forever, the cold beauty of the stars my only companion?  They shine down on me, stars and planets and galaxies, light from thousands and millions and billions of years ago.  Is this why it doesn't fill the void, because in all their beauty the light they shed isn't present in the here and now?  Is this why I crave a hand to hold as I wander the night, my neck craned this way and that, my eyes absorbing this ancient light?  The hand would anchor me, remind me that I exist, that I am human, that I crave and laugh and smile and yes, love.  So much love to give without a tangible outlet is almost painful, a dull echo that reverberates through my body and gets choked off by my smile as I pretend to the world that I’m fine with this.  I’m not, world.  As I pass the hours of this life of mine, I smile and laugh and love, my friends are wonderful, my family is happiness, my ears hear the beauty of music, my eyes see the beauty of the world, but my hands…my skin…they crave the touch of someone.  Someone who will love me for me, who will desire me for me, who will help me be so much more than I could ever be alone. 

I wait patiently, the hours ticking by, for that spark of awareness.  It needs to strike both ways, both that someone and I need to feel it.  Without that I would rather be alone.  Uneven love is painful, heartbreaking, and not worth it. 

So until that time, I wander alone among the stars, or surrounded by loved ones without that touch I crave.  And I wait and watch and hope and dream.  Life doesn’t depend on this happening, but I would like to feel it.  At least once.  

So it's loneliness, right?  But I chose to be alone.  I've chosen to be alone for a few weeks now.  I'm waiting for something, obviously, but I'm not sure what.  And very soon I'll have less time to dwell on it, less time to gaze at the stars and wonder and yearn and crave something intangible.  This will be good, I think.  And in not dwelling, perhaps it will come to pass.  Because it's true that I would like to feel it.  At least once.

Then again, I could just manifest destiny the crap out of it.  Maybe a little of both.

It helps to write, it helps to know that there are those out there who feel/have felt the same way at one point of time or another.  And my happiness is not gone, my optimism is still surrounding me, and my adventure continues.

Peace, Love, and a snippet of Melancholia 

Shanti