Saturday, March 19, 2016

Apparently it is unfair to equate love with other feelings. Love lives in an ivory tower and calls out for those who are courageous enough to try and search for it, whereas I expect love and I to accidentally bump into each other, realising that we've been living in the same ivory tower all along. 

I am not bitter, nor hopeful. I am just enjoying being me. I want no one in my life who needs more than a friendship right now, and sometimes I'm not even sure I have a friendship to offer. It is much more difficult maintaining friendships with people you haven't known for decades. My Shire Ladies take no offence from weeks without a word, nor do I expect to be filled in with all their scandals until they are ready to tell that story. In this Oriental bubble that I now live, my friends are few, but we see so much of each other that it becomes instantly recognisable if one of us opts out, or chooses to spend time with anyone else, or even on our own. 

What is so wrong with wanting to spend some time by yourself?

The weather is also truly having an effect on my rather more acerbic tendencies, a fog has cloaked the island so that it feels we are trapped beneath a great white cloud and breathing is becoming somewhat of a noticeable struggle. I cannot remember the last time I saw the sun. I think I need to escape, to run away and breathe, so that I can come back and be myself - be kind and caring and compassionate, listening to my friends who need me and allowing myself to feel something, anything, even if it is not love. 


Why do we feel the need 'to love and be loved in return'? Does it give us a sense of purpose? Does it make us feel like we belong? I cannot believe that love is the only reason for our existence, nor that life is without meaning if we don't have love. Not that love is a bad thing, but from what I've experienced, it does blinker you to thinking solely about one other person, and forgetting who you are in the process. 

Love is confusing. Life even more so.







D. S.