birthday month: unresolved feelings
well, whaddaya know? i'll be 43 on the 25th. the only indicator of me aging is just a bunch of white hair on top of my head. other than that, i'm still physically fit, even more healthier compared to my old self twenty years ago.
but i've come undone. all i could think about was this person that i met at a local advocacy workshop a few weeks ago. if i tell you that i have met someone, it's an overstatement to be honest. unfortunately for me, all i want to do now is to just talk to them; i want know what's on their mind, their ups and downs, what are their favourite things, how their day looks like, and other things that people find boring (but not to me).
god, i'm fucked. i haven't felt this way about a person in a long, long time and now this kind of feelings resurfaced and punched me hard in the face.
but what if they don't like me? what if they don't feel the same way? i guess have to be okay with it, no? i already told myself i don't have any expectations when it comes to the "love" department. i have always been, and continue to be, a lovefool.
how can i actually think of dating someone right now, amidst my financial worry and my declining mental health? what can i possibly offer them? what can i bring to the table? nothing. i have nothing. obviously i'm not gonna do anything about it (like asking them out on a date, for example) and do what i always did; endure this feeling in silence and solitude.
be still, my little turbulent heart. your unresolved feelings will be over; one way or another.
"my flocks feed not,
my ewes breed not,
my rams speed not,
all is amiss:
love's denying,
faith's defying,
heart's renying,
causer of this.
all my merry jigs are quite forgot,
all my lady's love is lost, god wot:
where her faith was firmly fix'd in love,
there a nay is placed without remove.
one silly cross
wrought all my loss;
o! frowning fortune, cursed, fickle dame;
for now i see
inconstancy
more in women than in men remain.
in black mourn i,
all fears scorn i,
love hath forlorn me,
living in thrall:
heart is bleeding,
all help needing,
o! cruel speeding,
fraughted with gall.
my shepherd's pipe can sound no deal,
my wether's bell rings doleful knell;
my curtal dog, that wont to have play'd,
plays not at all, but seems afraid;
my sighs so deep
procures to weep,
in howling wise, to see my doleful plight.
how sighs resound
through heartless ground,
like a thousand vanquish'd men in bloody fight!"
-- william shakespeare, sonnets to sundry notes of music, XVIII