“…There is no one alive who is youer than you.” — Dr. Suess.

Being home from work, I have laundry to do, and subsequently, too much time in front of the computer, but while I seem to be playing idle mahjong games on Facebook, another part of my head is in art, another is in writing, another is in philosophy… or at least, pop-psychology.

I was thinking about being in love, and how now being in love differs from when I was in my twenties and in love and how that differs from when I was in my thirties and in love.

Looking at fifty, I see now that my fidelity belongs to me, that, first of all, I love me and I have to be true to what I need to stay sane and whole.

And if it’s something my lover isn’t able to emotionally provide, I have to be willing to walk away.

What’s different this time is that while there’s some sadness, there is no anger, no bitterness, no disappointment. It seems to me that if I loved someone truly, there’s no place for anger, and all I can do is fervently hope he finds what makes him whole and content.

I dunno. Maybe this is corny, and schlocky, and pop-psychy, but it feels true to me. Just need to ponder some more.


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