Posted in love, personal

Mysteriously Beautiful, Physically Painful

Life has these moments of Mysterious Beauty scattered throughout it; moments we rarely can predict and sometimes don’t recognize when they occur. But make no mistake, they make life worth living, even when they hit with such a ferocity as to bring tears to the eyes and a sting to the heart.

Such a moment came for me when I found that a certain someone was worthy of loving. Don’t misunderstand me; don’t think that this love comes at the expense of the man to whom I’ve given the core of my heart. I could never un-love him, or lose love for him, even were I to try. And why I would want to try is beyond me. (In fact, he has told me that he wants me to experience all the moments of Mysterious Beauty life has to offer me, including this feeling for another, and that to deny me would be an act of selfishness, not of love.)

I am an incredibly picky individual. Especially where personal matters are concerned. I hold people to an astoundingly high standard, almost as high as that to which I hold myself, and that especially goes for my judgment of character. I believe that one’s character and integrity are the most important aspects of a person; that if I can’t respect an individual I can scarce tolerate them. And so, with such a high standard, it’s rare and Mysterious indeed to find someone worthy of not just respecting, not just tolerating, not just liking, but having love for. Even in spite of vast differences in beliefs, his character shines through in such a way that it can’t be ignored.

But, as a friend says in her profile, sometimes the one you fall for isn’t ready to catch you.

I believe he has great respect for me, and genuinely likes me, but that tears-in-the-eyes sting-in-the-heart Mysterious Beautiful feeling isn’t reciprocated. I know it isn’t, I have always known. True, some part of me long hoped that it was and that it just hadn’t been discovered yet; but I can see with unobstructed eyes well enough to know that, no, it just isn’t there. And you can’t force it to be there.

At the same time, however, you also can’t make yourself un-feel what you do feel. Therein lies the true sting and the source of the tears. The best one can do in such a situation is to conduct one’s self with dignity and grace, to stand tall on one’s own and try not to let the sting be too crippling or the tears be too visible. And, painful though it may be, to turn and step away. Not necessarily cutting out altogether; but quieting that part of you that wishes it could be otherwise.

Knowing that that’s the right thing to do is painful enough to feel physically. But even that pain is a bit of the Mysterious Beauty; knowing that something, someone can have that much of an effect on you. And I am healing, slowly, and most days I’m all right. Still, though, every once in a while, something happens to pick at that scabbed-over wound and start it bleeding afresh. And today, at the risk of sounding gothy-goth, I’m bleeding inside.

I’m at that frustrating stage between wanting to feel that Mysterious Beauty that I know is false, and wanting to not feel anything so I don’t hurt. And not just to avert pain, but because it’s the right thing to do. But it is a sad thing to have to put a lid on something so beautiful as this feeling, and hide it away.




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