It’s 7:40 pm, and I’m writing this as I’m sitting within the comforts of my blanketed, green-and white-pillowed queen-sized bed. I’ve completed two months of the new job so far, and Friday is a day I’m looking forward to with much terror anticipation. A slight resemblance to what could be construed as success has finally appeared at the horizon. At long last.
But–once you’re there–how do you know you’ve found the right person? When I was five, I used to be a know-it-all and state my dad would give him the once-over and reject or accept him as he pleases. Now–well….
I don’t know. I don’t know. Is there even a right person? Or a lot of wrong ones?
How do you know the person you choose to accept–to be as a couple–won’t suddenly shed his sheepskin coat and turn out to be a wolf in disguise, ready to tear your family to shreds, from the inside-out? How do you know you won’t let in the wrong person in your life–one who punches you and beats you up physically and emotionally in front of your children? How do you know he won’t epically destroy your life in massively catastrophic proportions?
Sometimes–you want to try again–to catch love–to stop being numb all the time.
Sometimes you want to know what it’s like to be loved again–to go through the giddiness that comes with infatuation and so-called “puppy love.” But that opens the floodgates to things you pushed away years before–things you tried as hard as you could to push away, forever.
You thought that being intelligent meant you were Superman. Or Superwoman.
You could absorb yourself in your books for hours on end, escaping to a world where everything added up, answers were cohesive, and everything had its own orchestrated and orderly structure. Once upon a time. A long time ago. Far, far away.
And so, your life is one of contradictions. You meet people, and set your walls high to protect yourself.
Your indecisive acts frustrate people, but you can’t help it. You want love without vulnerability, joy without pain, happiness without tears. You crave all of the highs, and none of the lows.
But the sorrow is inevitable.
Whose fault is it? What went wrong? Why did he wreak havoc on…everyone? All of those questions are mulled over to no end. Everyone is a victim to some extent, but who are the perpetrators? Where did fathers go wrong in raising their sons to do drugs, have affairs, and have machismo that tore other families apart? Why aren’t there better fathers, better mothers, and better sons, that won’t go out and wreck other women’s souls?
So, I suppose my conclusion is this.
I want someone who won’t epically destroy me and my family in catastrophic proportions.
I want someone who will stick will me in the most difficult and vulnerable parts of my life.
I want someone who won’t make me cry every day.
I want someone who doesn’t do drugs.
I want someone who makes my life easier, my days brighter, my life happier. But even if I don’t find that person, I promise to lead a crazy and beautiful life…and one filled with dancing, laughter, and joy.
I think–for the time being–my idea of happiness is a fulfilling job in the city, financial freedom, and enough money to travel during holiday. Maybe with a dog or other pet.
I really am quite a simple creature.