I used to think nothing of my way if life. Maybe I was always alone, but it didn't bother me. It didn't provoke thought as much back then as it unfortunately does now. Suddenly the question of being alone, weighs so heavy on my mind. Perhaps it was the revelation that another human's company is something to be yearned for after all. Perhaps it's the realisation that the world and it's peoples, well, people are not always going to be simple. They're not always going to make it easy. In fact they'll mostly make it goddamned difficult. People will hurt you. And break your heart. And maybe I've learned to see further than that naive dream of possibilities, I've opened my eyes to the bigger and natural picture, one not seen through the glasses of my girlish hopefulness. But whatever it is, people, and the endless comings and goings, the passings by of them in our lives has awoken in me the need to not feel lonely. The fear of being lonely. And the fact that I am lonely. I've always been lonely. I'm just starting to realise that fact now.
The fear if loneliness is a human condition, especially when one lives in a soulless environment like we do. People come and go and we all go about our business like there's no inter connectivity between us all. Like we are all individual links in a chain that isn't connected, just floating around in actuality. But we are all connected. We are links in a chain, we're meant to connect and form that bond. So why is it so hard?
I've come to fear my loneliness, particularly the fact that it may last. I know the future's not for us to see, but I would be lying if I said I didn't feel those pangs of fear every once in a while, much as I hate to admit that fact.
As the days and then the years march on, and the endless procession of people come and go; the stories, the successes and the passions, the mistakes and the dramas. The stories. They seem to flick before like an endless reel of film, a thought provoking one. And just as how every man and for the purposes of feminism, woman sees their world through lenses of their own making, I see that movie through the lenses of my own making. My mind and my interpretation picks out the threads of relationships between all of them, the connectivity and the link in the stories; between people.
I have begged the Divine for a sign lately, to let me know I'm not making the mistakes I shouldn't be making. That I'm not making the mistakes at all. That maybe I should be doing the right thing but what is the right thing? Because I no longer know. All I know is that I fear the loneliness. I fear that may never find someone that I can and will connect with on that level that I find so dear and necessary to me. And I fear it so much that I have begun to start thinking that maybe I need to accept the fact that maybe I just may never find it and I should be ok with it. Maybe. Just to keep my sanity intact.
I do not enjoy being the Donna to someone's Harvey, nor the Regina or the Miranda in someone else's story. But it seems that that is all that I am. I am the Donna, and the Regina and the Miranda. And the one thing these characters have spoken to me about is that they are in conflict, and or in denial and or they endure. Always enduring. Something I never thought I had to do. Something I never thought I would allow myself to do but I now in fact perhaps, do. We are stupid by design, women, men, all of us. This crucial flaw in us. Is it perhaps really what makes this universe go round?
I do not want to endure. I want to sing of my own triumphs, to live out my own story where I am not just a spectator on the sidelines; a necessary element but never the one who wears the crown. I want to sing of my own triumphs in my own story, and where I once thought I was living my own story, I seem to feel now that I may have been a tad knocked off course.
Donna told Louis in an episode that jealousy, it brings out the worst in people. And that is true. And I know that. Envy is a poison, but it seeps through your veins and overtakes all that is good inside you until you feel like you have no choice. It takes strength and a lot of enduring to resist such poison such as envy. And I know that personally. I feel it to the core. Because envy, and jealousy, it will bite you from the inside. Every single pang is like being bitten inside, right on the heart and it will slowly bleed. And it will cry tears on the inside, even when your eyes are dry and your lips still smile because green is not an attractive colour on anyone.
I know how hard it is, to tell yourself that it's not you. It's just not right. To tell yourself that you understand why it had to be someone else and not you. To tell yourself that you are talking about this now when even thinking about it brings back unpleasant emotions. I know how hard it is to see the object of your jealousy and not hate it; to feel like it is not their fault even when you know in your mind that it is truly not. Your heart just won't let it go. I know those bleeding tears, when they cry those bitter bitter tears but I shall not dwell on it. For even now, this is too much.
I've never understood the purpose of such a test. To prove me wrong perhaps? That all the things I said I'd never do. I'm just human after all. And when you do realise that, that's when you realise all the stupid stupid things you swore you'd never do, filling the agenda of your daily life. Some things will never make sense to the mind, that makes perfect irrevocable sense to the heart. And maybe now I embrace my humanity. For although I may do the same stupid things I scorned for love, I am doing those same stupid things for love.
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