Trying To Make It Through
I am spending these days alone, not in search of love or for companionship, but in search of myself. My son has made it quite clear that I am not needed as much as I used to be. I am sitting here trying to find a place where I belong, and a place where I can actually make a difference. I spend too much time in search of something that doesn’t exist—perfect love. No longer will I dream, no longer will I face the world with a hope in my heart, but with darkness and disbelief. This is all attributed to the fact that no matter what, love is something that does not exist on the level that I believe it should.
How can a man have been so wrong? This is something that I have to make certain that I find out because I am that man, and I was so wrong. There is world hunger, and disasters left and right, and in the middle of it all, I thought love could prevail but I know now, that only if it were true love, then it would, but there is no such thing. There is a time in a man’s life when he realizes that some dreams must be let go. There are some things that must be given up in order to make certain that he will become a man that most people will notice, and not for the bad, but for the good in his life.
That time has come for me. This life that I have lived, is not one of which to be proud. It has been filled with failure after failure, but I never seem to quit trying. That’s the thing about it all: I have to quit trying. You can’t rush love, life or anything like that. Patience is a virtue to everyone, even though not many people know or even would recognize what that means. Hell, I didn’t know what it meant until I was given an opportunity to prove my own patience and I failed. This is the turning point in my life. I found true love, and I failed it. I have no one else to blame but myself, and I never in my life will ever find that again. Something that is so wonderful that it takes all your cares away—that kind of love.
Reaching into the depths of my own soul, I have found nothing more than shattered pieces of a broken heart, and the remains of a man that I started out in life to be. This is disturbing in itself, and I sometimes wonder what I have to offer anyone. I have nothing. Nothing financially, nothing that would even be considered of any significance in anyone’s life. All I have to offer is my heart, my companionship and the fact that I will do the best that I can in order to be the perfect friend, partner and more. There is only so much that man can give, when he gives his everything.
However, life and love have a funny way of not taking the same paths. It presents itself in one fashion and then materializes in another. It creates dreams and then shatters them. It makes a man, and then breaks him down. That is something that will always be in life and in love. Dismally facing the world with the weight of a hundred lives lived and nothing to show for it, I will grow stronger. There has to be a light at the end of the tunnel, and where this tunnel is leading, I will have to find out. I cannot be too far off from where I started, but it seems like it is a million miles away. Maybe I can get back there and not start over, but pick up the pieces. Watch things just fall back into place instead of watching them fall apart. I have to make certain that there is something more to live for than what someone else wants. I have dreams and desires, and not all of them can become a reality, but some of them can, and most of them will. That is where I am in my life. This is the man that I will become, and despite the loneliness that comes with it, I can make it through and I will. There is something more than life than to be paired with someone—especially to be paired with someone that isn’t everything that you believed. There can only be one true love, the love that when you find it, you would rather die alone than to have something less in its place.
At one point, I thought I had found that love. At one point, I thought that person felt the same, and now, I am faced with the reality, that it may have been a dream. It may have been just a fantasy. Fantasies are good, but trying to make them a reality is something that hurts a lot in the end. This is something that I learned the hard way, and I hope that I can show my son that life isn’t filled with the misery that I have found, but it can be filled with a great and wonderfully meaningful happiness. This is my goal now—making certain that he finds happiness, and I only hope that he will learn from my mistakes and not be doomed to face the same type of life that I have lived.
As for my future, I know not what it holds. The future is a place that I do not care to discover too soon, and when it comes, I will learn to face it with a new outlook. Until then, I am still trying to make it through.
