Why do they call it falling?

I've been a party to a lot of romances. Some more serious than others.

I've been in-love a few times.

Every time is different. Every time is the first time.

Every break-up hurts a little different too.

I'm still looking for that forever thing.

I must have that spine of steel my Grandpa always said I had...or at least nerves of steel.

Science says we, especially women, are hardwired to want that. I believe it.

In school we were taught that all we needed to live was food, water, shelter...but I think they should include love in that equation. See we also need to want to live. Not that I am suicidal or anything, I have love, lots of it, children, family, friends, and a longing and a hope for that someone one day.

Its frustrating to keep trying and keep failing time and time again.

I feel battered and bruised inside sometimes and no doubt the men I've left behind feel much the same way at times. 6 1/2 billion people and so many of us can't find that "one"........

Love was easier 100 years ago when there weren't so many life choices and we all weren't so self sufficient that we didn't really need anyone. I think it helps to actually need someone when you go looking for love. My independence and self sufficiency have hurt me in the love games. The guys who feel I need them are few and far between, and usually wrong anyway.

I've been trying to soften my heart, learn tolerance and acceptance, been trying to open myself up to dependence.

It isn't easy. I have to let myself fall in love. I have a big heart but falling in love doesn't come natural to me. I've learned too many times that some people can't be trusted so its harder for me to let go of my grip on my heart and let myself drift.

Why do they call it falling anyway?

Its not like that for me. When I start slipping on the grass on my way up that cliff where I just know my true love waits, I get nervous and stressed.

I feel the fatigue of all the years of climbing up that same path and running back down it to safety.

The few times I've stood at the edge of that cliff I see that wonderful ocean of possibility just waiting for me to dive in it. Beautiful waves of hope, the crisp clean scent of contentment, and endless miles to the horizon of happily ever after.

Unfortunately, I also see the sharp ragged edges of the rocks where my previous relationships landed, the boulders of blocked memories and reefs full of crushed dreams. To get to that ocean I have to get past those.

I'm too cautious to fall. If I want to be in that ocean, I'm going to have  to take a dive.


I can feel the winds of promise on my back as I stand there...pushing at me...

My body is still scraped and bloody from wounds that never quite healed from the jumps I attempted before.

Sometimes there is one beside me and I know that if he just held out his hand and took the jump with me that I would dive right into it.

I don't think I can do it by myself.

I don't want to be alone...............


I need a hero...... Someone with nerves of steel.

I seem pretty good at climbing up to the top of the precipice though.
I can stare right into the fathomless depths.....
There is a strange beauty between the hope and despair.
I want to linger here.
My heart pounds.
                                      I feel dizzy.


It happens when you're not paying attention.....

Y'know that feeling when you knock on the door and no one is home?

You thought they would be.... Why wouldn't they be just hanging around waiting for you to call?

....But that life went on without you for good or ill.

That's kind of how I feel right now.

I've been planning this move for months. The place I was going to move into fell apart though. If I wanted to move into a nice place I should have done it 3 years ago. Inspection proved my error and I can't move there now. So now I have to find a new one. \

No biggie, but I had my heart set on that one. It was like an old friend. I knew I could have it anytime I wanted, that it was just there...waiting on me.

The apartments all around it contain real friends of mine. In this one though, interlopers came and tore it apart. Like a deserted friend who turns to drugs or drink in loneliness. Somewhere in there is the place I loved but it is surrounded in a mess that I want no part of.

I suppose I shouldn't give humanity to inanimate objects. I was just really hopeful about living there. Now I sit here with half of my stuff packed up. I don't have to leave but I want to.

I am going through all the motions of preparation. Packing. Planning. Spreading the word. I haven't made appointments to see other places yet though. Next week is soon enough. Maybe I've grown too comfortable in the ghetto. I don't know.

The ghetto is not a good place to raise my son, but in some ways I think it would make a better man out of him. Right now I am thinking it through. Part of the problem is this house. It is run down. It needs new carpet, serious repairs, painting and insulation.

If I had a man around I'd probably stay. The rent is cheap and the neighbors are getting somewhat better. There are thugs about but they are everywhere downtown....not much I can do about that. The *kid* and I both like living near down town.

I have an extra bedroom.... I could consider a room mate. I won't though. I'm not sure it would be a good idea for my youngest child. I don't want too many people influencing him. I'm particular about who I let really talk with him, it could contradict the morals and beliefs I am teaching him. I take my job as a parent seriously. A roommate would also interfere with my bigger dreams. I don't want to be encumbered by unnecessary responsibility if I ever find the man I can build a life with. 

So its time to look again. I have no energy for it.

Like a spoiled little kid I want what I want.

The cosmos really seems to think I need change though.

I feel like stomping my feet.