And I have done it again. I have been warned; I was seriously questioned by people who knew both of us about the wisdom of going down this path, but I wandered that way and now there is, as always, a price to pay. The funny thing is that while this weekend has been most illuminating, I am pretty certain that I heard and felt my heart shatter into a thousand tiny little shards.
And I am reminded, yet again, of why sometimes the whole pursuit of romance is not really meant for me. From the friend who kept reminding me that I do get a bit sensitive around this particular aspect to the feelings of blame that I lay at my feet: I should have been smarter, I should not have decided that what was reality was what I wanted it to be, that I can't believe that I am in this mindset and this emotional place yet again. In the end, the thing about having a fragile heart (and I do believe that most of us have a very fragile heart; some are just better at faking impervious-ness) is that I should know better to protect it, because when it shatters, I am the only one getting hurt.
And that seems rather unfair, but I guess that is the way of the world. I wish sometimes that my life had the knack of working out the way I wanted. Well, at least when it comes to like and lust, but it never seems to. I sometimes wish that I did not fall so hard for these wonderful people that I get to know, knowing somewhere in my heart of hearts that they don't reciprocate but the chance to choose in romance is not really possible. I wish sometimes that my heart did not break so easily; that tears shed could mend what is broken. But I know that only time and distance away from the impacting force is the only way to let my shattered heart heal - whole again, but no stronger for having been broken once more.
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