Personal Entry

I have fought for love. I have gnashed my teeth, I have roared, I have raged, and I have torn muscle–all for love. All these wounds heal with time, but the scars are visible. Now, there is no longer any fight left in me. I can only walk through the minefields and the fires and the ruins until I am either dead or free from the maelstrom. But I can no longer tear down walls, I can no longer drag a half-dead corpse so many miles through seasons of bitter cold, I can no longer make anything work. If this war is to be won, then it must be through an ally, because this army is dead.

Fuck. I can’t sleep. I am discovering that I want a relationship. I want someone to share experiences with, someone to talk with, someone to smile with, someone to hold, someone to comfort and be comforted by. I am no longer afraid of a relationship as I have been. I have been wounded and scarred, but I am still standing. The problem, I believe, is that I keep feeling that I have lost the strength to fight. I refuse to struggle for something good. I no longer have the will and energy to overcome any serious obstacle. Love is no longer a worthwhile pursuit. Unrequited love is good enough, if need be, and unfulfilled love is acceptable.

The words of Gratitude keeping crashing through my mind like waves:”…maybe we wanted it too much, but better than to never have tried and fail again.”

And I think that perhaps there is one good fight left buried deep down inside of me… maybe enough of a fight to end the war. But if it is there, then I seem to be saving my strength, biding my time, and choosing my battle with unfathomable discretion.

I want this war to end, but I have little faith that I can withstand any real opposition.

This is not turning out at all the way I want it to. I have no idea how to accurately express what I feel. Hopelessness without disappointment? Perhaps a lack of faith rather than a lack of hope? Frustration. Confusion. Apology. Conflict, and with it the imagery and symbolism of war. Resigned acceptance? I don’t know myself. This didn’t come together as I had hoped it would. I have lost faith in others and somewhere along the way I have lost faith in myself.

It has been said that no man is an island. It seems true enough, which is a shame, because it seems that to be an island would solve every problem but one–an island is not a man.

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