A major point hit me right after I posted my last entry. I can be as bitter and depressed as I want, but the fact remains that I am in no position to actually pull off any sort of relationship. Then again I have never let logic get in the way before, but it still sits there like a devil on my shoulder.
Over the last day I have played the game that titles this post. Not that it has done me any good. Although being intro, and retrospective is never a bad thing. In thinking "what if" I have come across two or three brief spots where I could have had a chance. Missed opportunities to go after what I wanted. I clearly had an opening, but I passed the door up.
Once again I only have myself to blame. Fear and lack of faith in one's self played major parts as always. The fear of loosing what you have in the attempted of going for the bigger and better prise. Even if what you have is so little and unfulfiling, past the physical, as to be pointless. Let down by the urge to remain safe, I suppose.
Then the major clawing thought of inadequacy. That I could never be enough, or be all that he wants. And while part of that rings true, in that, no one person could ever fill every need of another, which is a glaring fact in his case. It seems more like a shadowed part of the cripple psyche. Broken from the get-go; imperfection as a standard feature.
But none of this severs any purpose other than to depress and distract me. And I think thats why I find myself bothered by it. One, for all of it's meaning, and in some ways it is an expression of rejection. But more, it is a diversion from the greater issues that have been clouding my life for years. Even during the times when I thought I might have had a chance. So even then the prospects would have been murky, no matter what I tell myself now to boost my spirits
In the end I have to let go and focus. But even though I know that is what I have to do, I find myself fighting the idea. Otherwise obsessing over things which I have no control. Maybe the very idea that I had a chance is just another lie. One made to comfort myself and move the the sideshow along its tracks. Still an atrophied part of my heart says otherwise.
Maybe some people just aren't meant to be happy. Just to get by how ever they can, and hope it works out in the end. Sitting here, wishing I could see the future - distracting myself, yet again.
By whatever means - usually means trouble