…a vague and constant desire for something that does not and probably cannot exist … a turning towards the past or towards the future.
I fervently love this single word that can encompass so much feeling, so much nuance. Maybe THIS will be my first tattoo. Probably not, I’m too indecisive to settle on this word for long. I’m scared of getting sick of things.
It is how I feel always. Suadades. More ardently lately. Winter always gets me singing the blues. Wondering, yearning, Ted Mosby-ing, mooning over Mr. X, wherever he may be right now. I tried to become a hardened cynic, believe me. At nearly 25 and still being all shiney-eyed when it comes to romantical notions isn’t cute anymore. It’s downright dumb. It’s kind of cruising for a bruising. I know.
The thing is, well this is the thing. I’ve always been a late bloomer. It always took me a little longer than the pack to come around to things. I don’t think I’m quite ready yet for Mr. X anyhow. That’s okay with me.
BUT…Mr. X, wherever you are, whatever you may be doing now. I want you to know that no matter how long it takes, I will never give up hope that you exist, this vague desire, this suadades, I have been feeling it for centuries, all my past lives, and particularly this one. Sometimes the pangs come from nowhere, but I feel like there’s some sort of a magnet in my soul that must be drawing nearer to you. Ever closer. Ever searching.
I’ve had my misfires, certainly, but that’s only because I didn’t listen to my gut. I settled. That doesn’t work. I learned my lessons and I’ll never do it again. I’ve decided I’ll remain celibate all the rest of my days if that’s what it takes…no I don’t necessarily expect the same from you.
Yours eternally, infernally,
PS – Do you feel it too? Particularly this time of year?