I have a make-believe connection with someone.
Deep connections of the heart can spur us on, connections on an intellectual level can keep us grounded, physical connections can get us into trouble and pleasure simultaneously. A budding or broken connection with someone can make or break a relationship; weddings hinge on the feelings of connectedness but so do affairs and divorces.
What does one do with a connection that just doesn’t appear to exist in reality, one sometimes felt strongly, but never plays out in real life?
This may end up being the most vulnerable post on my journey to 31 yet…
A few years ago some strange, foreign seed was planted deep in my heart. I don’t know how it got there, a part of me thinks I just willed it into existance, but it began to grow like a weed and tangle itself around my ability to think reasonably. The seed grew up in abundance and blossomed in a unexpected and crazy chain of events that I couldn’t have been happier about.
This process opened my eyes to things I had hardly ever considered as possibility for my life. I began to calmly and peacefully imagine the future and wonder at acts of miracle and beauty that aren’t on my radar frequantly. And I was okay with it. I was absolutely okay with the risk I was taking, okay with the unknown, ready to have the fights and the hardships and the little moments and the normal days.
Then the weed got cut down. Severed at the base with the sudden and sharp cut of gardeners sheers.
The trouble is, I don’t think it got pulled out at the roots, so every now and then a little sprout comes weaseling its way up, reaching for the sun, carrying the strange hope of one that doesn’t know that its brothers and sisters will not join him and that he will never blossom.
For a moment, he grows proud and sure of himself and for a moment I feel the strings of my heart reach out towards another that knows not that my feelings still exist,until the moment passes and the lone stem withers in the soil.
I know I am not the first person in the world to have an unrequitted hope. I know that I have acted and proceeded in the most honest way I could through each step. I know that I wouldn’t take back the actions or words I gave, but I don’t know how to get this weed dug out so I can stop imagining a different fate had worked itself into my life.
Connections are an interesting thing. Sometimes they exist in unexpected ways and sometimes they don’t exist at all.
And, apparently, sometimes they exist in fleeting, stubborn greenery.
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