Wednesday, December 17, 2008

what I miss

I feel a special connection to music, especially when I can relate to it. Dido’s new album is about loss. At least right now that’s what I’m hearing.

What I have lost recently is not MJ. MJ is still my friend. In fact I think now about what we really have in common and it isn’t all that much. A lot of what we did together was me getting my stuff done and her coming along for the ride. For example, we used to take walks, and then I found out later that she doesn’t really like to walk—she’d rather run. We both like movies, but I don’t really consider that quality time. What I saw in her was myself. She needed what I could give because I knew what I needed at her age. She needed someone to listen to her and consider her amazing and interesting, which I did. And she met some of my needs too. So I still have a friend, she’s just not the same friend that I used to have.

What I’m lacking is connection—that fragile, magical state of feeling close to someone, of giving your heart, of feeling vulnerable yet safe. I think it’s that precarious balance between vulnerability and security that makes me feel alive and happy. When MJ was around I had no occasion to feel lonely—not the loneliness that comes from lack of companionship, because like many of us, I have lots of people around, and even when I don’t I don’t mind being by myself. I’m talking about that loneliness many of us feel when we have no outlet for all of the affection bottled up inside of us, when we want to share ourselves but we don’t have a desirable target. Friends are valuable, and friends can help us with that outlet sometimes, but they are no substitute for that one individual that we choose—the one who also chooses us—who we can connect with, share with, feel interested in, feel completely accepted by, and love with what we believe is all of our heart. It’s a nice place to be. It feels good. And unfortunately it feels like it will last forever, even though your mind tells you it won’t.

So that’s what I miss. I even miss stuff that I haven’t experienced, if that makes sense at all. I miss having a hand to hold, a body to lean against, someone I can just look at and they’ll know what I’m thinking. Someone who knows me. It’s all that stuff we take for granted when we’re with someone.

1 comment:

  1. Your statement "I miss things I have not even experienced" is very profound. And, I get that- exactly.


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