Syzygy

I unravel.

This past week has been emotionally momentous. My heart is alive with conflicting emotions and running the gamut from beatiful to horrible as far as feelings go. One moment I feel like nothing is wrong with my world, the next I'm feeling miserably dejected and stoically apathetic. Good things have happened, but good things also complicate the already complicated mosaic of thought within me.

Peolple once thought of as falling within a certain subjective category within the social schemes of one's own sphere suddenly shift onto a different strata, making one reasses how events and relationships might have evolved to that point. Like a crash in slow motion, a glacier inexorably moving towards a drifting ship, I ingored signs I would otherwise pick up on to seize and rather attributed them to other, more innocently intentioned origins. Semi-fraternal affections preventing one from objectively viewing a friend's behavioral patterns and therefore letting things grow by way of inaction, to some degree.

Not a bad thing at all. No. But a complicated one, should things grow, as they are so oftenly wont, out of the confines of the realm of the reasonable. Is there danger of such a thing occurring? Yes, the danger is not only possible but highly probable. Will this person know how I truly am and be able to accept me accordingly? No one's been found yet that might actually match this requirement.

Things might be best left to linger a little, ignoring the issue of permanence and that of feelings beyond the here-and-now. Focus only lighting on the bliss to be derived from the ephemeral nature of these things and the intensity with which one feels as these things come. The object of my interest, so to speak, will be leaving on a potentially permanent journey of sorts. A reason for both joy and sorrow - is anything with me ever clear cut on one side of the spectrum? - as my heart has not entirely found it's home again and this sudden burst of fire within has caused a major conflagration. The last thing I want to do is hurt anyone, much less a person such as this. Sorrow, though, for the knowledge that timing has once again taken the best of me. Serendipity, causality, whatever. It all converges in this dance of emotions and desires, of thought and action conflicting, warring, subsiding and subversively rising up again. This person will leave and, the gods willing, find her raison-d'etre, her north in life. Whether I'm anywhere in there in the near future or far, a trifle matter that surely concerns powers higher than mine. My hopes? I don't even know them sometimes.

Hence the nature of our current arrangement. I'm a nice note, a paragraph in a chapter of a person's book. One fondly remembered for life? That may be more than most can hope for. Do I truly want to be something more significant in another person's life? It's scary to think of it. It terrifies me. I was significant, or so I thought, not so long ago. Alas, I mistook "useful" for "significant" and branded myself a monumental fool. I don't think I can be significant for anyone any time soon. I can be meaningful, that I most certainly can be. Meaningful and ephemeral, yet everlasting and unsullied. A memory shining in the distance, which light may warm the holder in times of struggle and adversity. I can be meaningful.

It is frustrating, to be in this state, within. Like I'm only a half-person. Incomplete, inadequate, neither here nor there. A fleshly ghost. Wherefore do I haunt?