by queen v

Created on: March 10, 2010

Houston's humid weather feels good this morning.
It’s inviting and welcoming.
Not suffocating, not sticky just quite yet.

I drive with my windows down, enjoying the breeze and the sound of cars zooming by in that typical Houston alacrity of speed. Better get there now, in Houston there’s no time for waste - they must be thinking. Time is money and the expensive cars in front and behind are proof of this fact, solid evidence of the lifestyle lived here and of the overall culture of this country in its thirst and greed for money. Not me. Peace and quiet are more valuable than money.  I sure wish I could survive on these two.

I drive, no longer wondering whether love will be around the corner.  That I love is enough, I hope.  Not quite resigned to a fate as a single woman for the rest of my life, I do still hope, however, that my message will reach the one, and that he will find me someday.  Sooner, I pray, than later. 

How long have I been waiting? 
How long have I been hoping?

You know that I could use somebody...

I suppose this all started with my latest "love" interest, whom I do not even consider a love "interest" per say.  I merely fell in love despite my struggle not to I might add.  Why the struggle?  Because this man is yet another man added to the list of "unavailable men"  But I fell in love, and I think he can tell.  And I have not the strength to fight it any longer. 

Resignation?  Maybe.  I've been trying to change things.  I've been trying to break away from this pattern, but it's still around, pestering me like a pesky little stray waiting for its chance at a bite from a juicy Filet Mignon.  I simply have not the strength anymore to fight it or question it.  I've read the self-help books, the love-yourself books, I've visited psychics, I've analyzed my dreams, performed magic rituals, but the result ends up being the same.  Really, what else is there left for me to do?

Have I given up?
No.  I've come to accept.

I cry not because no one loves me.  In truth, I know not why I cry.  Maybe because I've been trying to write a beautiful love story and all I ever seem to write are tragedies.  I have not the strength to try to re-write any of the stories reflected through my rear-view mirror.  Ahead, that small gold of a hope in the lead of my miss-fortune still shines, bleaky, but it still shines.  I hope not for someone that loves me, but for someone willing to write this love story with me... the one I've always dreamed of. 

Truly, I know not why I cry.
But cry I do, I simply do.

I don't feel alone, but I could sure use somebody.

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