I am not infinite, but intimate

Sometimes I forget that the human spirit isn't invincible.   It's resilient but not invincible.  There are so many different kinds of fragile things.   Hearts can get broken, dreams can get broken, spirits can get broken, the human race is breakable.  And sometimes it seems so easy to suggest that  if we forgive fate, or love, or life for not being what we told it to be, or anticipated, or expected, or wished, or longed for it to be.... And if we FINALLY forgive ourselves for not being what we thought we might have been... Then we can be what we are, which is limitless, boundless, free.    But it's really experience that teaches us to be more realistic isn't it?  Over time there's a little bit of cynicism and a whole lot of realism that move us from bubble gum and bliss to guarded and guilty of generalizing? 

I sometimes think that my "cup half full" optimism for people is a lot of the reason that I can't seem to be fulfilled by any one person and yet can't seem to truly give up on someone either.  It's not that I need to be needed (though at times I want to be wanted).    I feel like I am consistent and ever changing all at the same time.  Running  away from anything that encloses me but yearning for some sort of consistency.  It's a constant need to compete in some little way.  To never be runner up.   I feel like none of this is making sense and yet I'm insanely relieved to have said the jumble somewhere other than in my head. 

Yesterday was introspective for me.   I feel like I was inhaling memories that I'd filed somewhere in my head.    I think we all have defining moments for lack of better explanation.  The moment when you can say "things changed after this".  For me, I was in a hospital waiting room.  I remember not wanting to think or feel anything, but of course it's the moment that your senses take in everything.  The ticking of the guys watch sitting next to you, the way one of your pant legs is coming unraveled on your pants, the way hospitals are usually the dirtiest places and yet always smell like cleaning products, the feeling of your heart beat in your stomach.  I am never sorry for moments that make you evolve.  No matter how painful they are, rain stops, sun shines, you can breathe again.  It's all a waiting game.