I never imagined being able to enjoy it. I never imagined that I would bask in the longing you can feel for someone; to be able to want to be with someone yet still be ok just living your life without them. There can be a certain pleasure from aching for someone1 but only when you know they might possibly feel the same way. There is a gentle balance between reminiscing the feeling of someone’s skin against yours, and feeling like there is something missing from your own skin.

I’m sure the patience I’ve learnt in the last year and a half2 has a lot to do with it. Perhaps, there is a maturity that comes with having waited for something only to have said thing materialize into something completely different than what you imagined. Perhaps. There is the possibility that I’m imaging these feelings that seem to be creeping their way deep under my skin in order to try and validate the innate desire that has now taken over my life. But I think the fact that five words could turn my mood up about 30 notches is a sign that I am not imaging anything.

The thing that has me boggled is the fact that I’m not in a hurry to find an answer; I’m happy sifting through all the different facets of this journey and certainly happy to enjoy the different roles I need to play. I do wonder why it is that I don’t need to know. Right. Now.  Like I always do. Why is it that I don’t feel the need to define what this is? Possibly because what this is, is so enjoyable as it is that it needs no definition nor does it need any expressed certainty. The lack of pressure, the openness, the understanding, the pure desire to just enjoy each other in every way available all make for the ability to enjoy longing for someone.

After the numbness I was trapped3 in for the last 20 months or so, you can imagine why this would be most welcome.

I’ve started posting some of my old poetry on poetfreak, and I’m starting chronologically4 and have noticed that a lot of my earlier poems were about longing and the wanting to be with someone I just couldn’t have and the need to have a definition for whatever it was I had with someone. Strange to think I’m the same girl sometimes but then reading those poems it brings me right back to the exact moment each word was written down… and it makes me grateful that I’ve kept every single one. To quote John Mayer, “And when I look behind, on all my younger times. I’ll have to thank the wrongs that led me to a love so strong.”5

Did you ever pine after someone you knew you could never have?

  1. and not necessarily in a sexual way, either []
  2. or so []
  3. for lack of a better word – I don’t intend to imply that he trapped me there… []
  4. what else would an Obsessive Compulsive do really? []
  5. just to be clear, I’m not in love now… just happy []

responses to “Longing” 6

  1. @Eri: I love the beach analogy. I hope I get to read some of your old writing some day? I really would love to! A mild pine is still a pine worth mentioning 🙂

    @Kandeezie: Sweetheart that is yet another great analogy. I have some talented friends I tell ya.

    @Laura: I wish you could find that poem too 🙂 What a lovely long distance relationship you have described; I mean I knew it didn’t all end in heartache but it’s still nice to hear a good story. Also, Keanu really? hehe

    @Leonard: Oh you sweet-talker you.

  2. You’ve got sweet longing. I once dated a man who lived in Vancouver when I was still here in Ontario. I remember late night phone conversations. The first time I whispered on the phone and how much he loved my voice then. I remember thinking of him knowing he would be arriving at work right then or making dinner, according to his schedule. Always waiting for the next phone call or the next time there was a chance to meet again. We did meet three times before it ended. In between we even managed to have a fight long distance. He sent the lovliest card. I wish I could find that poem about friendship and love again.

  3. Did you ever pine after someone you knew you could never have?: Yes. Many times. And those are the ones that stuck in my mind with the strongest of feelings. The almosts. The nearlys. They made breathing exciting, refreshing. Like mint.

    Even as I’m commenting now, as I’m breathing now, the memories I have of them bring back that mint feeling in my mouth. Funny.

  4. I love looking back on my old writing. Time can offer such clarity. It’s not like walking down a beach, where what you’ve left and what you’ve done are washed away. It’s like fresh cement. The past cannot be undone; it hardens and is frozen in time. (I don’t know where that came from but it’s going to make for an awesome blog post next week).

    Absolutely I’ve pined. I still think my high school crush is a total stud, but it was never a gut-wrenching soul-surrendering feeling. A mild pine, I suppose!

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