You’re a loner with no love of your own.
Darlin’.
Reach out. Reach out for ______.
________’ll be there. With a love that will shelter me.
________’ll be there. With a love that will comfort me.
________’ll be there. With a love that will see me through.
Where’s the someone who will be there for me? With the love to see me through?
Up and down New York I ventured today, in and out of various neighborhoods half-looking for stuff than I needed to buy and half-looking for a place to be. In an on-going quest for clarity, I keep searching, because even though things feel okay and are going relatively well, I feel certain that there’s more.
No doubt this has been my greatest achievement so far: moving completely away from home and everyone to live and work in one of the world’s greatest cities. I see so much in a day, but so far I’ve had little time to digest it all. It’s work. I’m a workaholic already. Part of it is the way I was raised – work hard, play later. The other part of it is I aim to please, and in this industry where I feel I have so much to give and learn, I’m anxious to ante up and play my hand.
Somehow though, I have to re-learn how to pause and check myself and really listen to things going on around me and figure out if everything’s ticking right. Lately I haven’t felt all here or there rather. But then, I wonder if I’ll ever feel all there anywhere – I’m beginning to think it’s my destiny to always feel just outside of everything: circles of friends, fads and fashions, ins and outs, still in front of the velvet ropes of the world …
I keep thumbing through old journals and seeing the same message. And while before I felt totally alone and stuck with this message of lonesomeness, in days past I’ve come across various passages from other writers and thinkers who’ve pined from the shade of a similar tree. I do feel in part that I notice so many things because I am without the constant buffer of another person’s companionship. It’s just me moving through the world. I suppose I am struggling to make amends with the loneliness I feel – which would explain the cyclical journal entries – but I am also trying to make sense out of all that I see in order to figure out best where I can settle and let my true dreams take root.
Nevertheless, seeing people holding hands and strolling with their arms around each other makes me ever hopeful that one day I’ll be one of those happy-go-lucky charmed people anchored by the connection that a little sweet love provides.