Oh, Don't I Wish

This is just a rant that feels good to write. I'm feeling nostalgic. I realized the date this morning, and remembered why I realized it.

A year ago today, I flew home from my last trip to Colorado. One year ago was the last time I saw the woman I loved; the last time I kissed her, held her, held her hand, held her head, stroked her hair, brushed her face.

She moved on almost immediately. I was stunned at how fast she fell in love again, but I don't begrudge her that. Having talked with the guy, I know he's nice enough, and I like him, which doesn't surprise me.

I've made some progress. I don't miss her anymore, per se. We've talked a few times since then, and I like to think we're still friends. She's not trying to grind anything in my face, and I'm not trying to be bitter or jealous. What I really miss, what I truly do long for, is being in love.

I'm too much of a romantic for my own good. I begin to think that being a romantic has brought me nothing but heartache. I begin to think my hopes for life are impossibly high, and that I should just give in and come back down to Earth; stop all this crazy daydreaming. I'm not going to become some swashbuckling hero. I'll probably never get to use the skills I know for anything useful. No rescuing fair damsels in distress with martial arts or European weapons. It just doesn't happen. Hollywood is fiction, and it's interesting because reality is boring.

It's all so durn metaphorical! My dragon is school, my sword is knowledge, and supposedly, there's some maiden somewhere out there that's waiting for me to come meet her, or is looking for me, too... yeah, right. Whatever.

And what really stinks about this whole thing is that as much as I complain about the way things are, I KNOW that all this complaining isn't going to do any good at all... but it does feel good to write.

Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment, if you like.