Requited

Love is interesting.  Whether you consider it an emotion, a lifestyle, a decision... the promises of love are many and diverse.  This is backed up by science (!) and the heartfelt testimonials of anyone who finds themselves entrenched in the bliss of a meaningful relationship.

But just as real and diverse are the effects of a life devoid of love.  Countless praises are sung to the wonderment of a life enamored, only to turn into the deepest of sorrows when it’s lost.  Is it really worth the risk?  How can something so fleeting be real?  Or, to be more accurate, why invest so much in something so inevitably short-lived?  I don’t know.  Maybe that’s just how I’m seeing it at the moment...  I get this way around Valentine’s Day.

Have you ever experienced this?  Have you ever missed someone every second you’re not with them, only to catch a glimpse and wonder if they were ever really there in the first place?  Have you ever wondered why... why they can’t just come back and give you that one chance?  Things could be good.  Things could be great.  They couldn’t be worse than they are now.  Why not?  Why not me?  Why lots of things.  Did I do something wrong?  In what ways am I not what you need?  I can change those.  Should I have to change those?  Should you change?  Should I want you to change?  Nothing’s fitting.  Why do I still want this?  Threats, fears, indignation... Maybe it’d be better if you just left.  But then you did.  Threats, fears, indignation... Now reality.  Turns out it isn’t better.  Turns out I was wrong.  About a lot of things.  Turns out I want you here.  Please don’t ask why.  Neither of us wants the answer.  I wouldn’t say I need you.  But only because needs are fickle.  I think we both know what I’m trying to say.  Or at least I like to think you do.  I like to think a lot of things about you.  Maybe that’s the problem.  I wish it were our problem.  But maybe you wouldn’t know.  Maybe you don’t care.  Maybe that’s the problem.  Maybe I’m the problem.  Either way, there’s a problem.  And I don’t know how to fix it so I’ll wait.  Wait and hope.  Hope that someday you will care, and care enough.  How much is enough? At all is probably a good start.  Let’s start there.  Let’s start over.  Let’s start something; something fleeting.  Until then, I’ll be here.  Happy, but not.  Moving on, but not.  Until one day when I know you’ll come back, and I’ll invest hope anew.  Things will be different then.  I’ll be happy, and you’ll stay because you’re happy, and I won’t take you for granted.  No.  Not this time.  Never again...



















 





Baseball, I’m so glad you’re back.  

Sorry.  The baseball off season is always hard for me.  I get emotional.  Hormones, probably, or emotional issues.  It was a long, lonely-cold winter without you.  As a famous twittist once said about the off season, “There’s nothing like a freshly stoked Hot Stove to keep you warm on those cold winter nights.”  Except maybe a woman.  But said famous tweeter wouldn’t know about those, let alone write a blog post about them...  But even better than the Hot Stove is the oven itself.  Whatever that means.  All I know is that baseball is back.  Is it any wonder that Spring Training always begins right around Valentine’s Day?  Nay.  Nary a wonder.  It’s the most romantic I ever feel.  Baseball.  I love you, babe.  Don’t ever leave me again.  Or else.