Answers. I am on a consistent quest for answers. To what, it doesn’t matter. Well, it does. To the issue at hand. If there is a question, I want an answer. If there is a problem, I want an answer. It doesn’t have to be The Answer. It just has to be an answer. A possible road to a solution. It relieves whatever small anxiety that begins to form when uncertainty arises. (Why?)
So, yes it makes feel better to trace some issue that I have back to something, anything, to give it a name. It give it a cause. To solve one little mystery strand in this tangled tangled mess. To have just one more piece of the puzzle. To be one small step closer to my goal.
Does it matter that it’s so general that to many people it doesn’t even matter? Does it matter that it’s a label, a name that can be applied to 90 percent of people? Not really. It’s still something to grasp at.
Sure, I know that’s not healthy. Is it? Is it really not? Do I know that? Maybe not. (Come back to it.)
When he questioned whether or not I was happy – well, outright denied that I was happy – I protested. Though I didn’t know how to answer the follow up question “What makes you happy? How are you happy?”. Why? Because I probably wasn’t. But by then, being happy didn’t matter. Him staying with me mattered. What I really wanted to say was “I need you. Don’t go.” But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t let myself be honest and say that. I couldn’t stand for him to go. I wanted nothing more than to make sure he didn’t leave me. That was all that mattered. Why? Because I didn’t want to admit to that weakness. That ultimate weakness of being unable to be left alone. No. That’s not even it. It wasn’t the being alone part that scared me, it was being left alone. For a third time, being alone wasn’t new and wasn’t impossible. But being left? That was new every time. It was fresh and raw and stinging. It was final. It was terrifying. There was no coming back from it. Hanging up that phone would signal another end. An end that in my heart was the last. (Though the last had seemed the last as well..) (Redundant?)
Is that really such a “beautiful” thing to say? “I need you. Don’t go.” Is it so much a beautiful thing to say as it is a beautiful thing to have the freedom to admit it? Maybe it is a beautiful thing. To know that someone’s presence in your life is necessary. That life isn’t the same without them.