There is something to be discovered here- like songs and years, it will be sung and then fall silent. Meaning is a forgotten thing, a fear that forgetting is enevitible, unraveling like age and time. Some of us live with gaping holes in our chests- honestly searching for recognition and belonging. We smile at amusement- people slipping through our lives so quickly, in chapters, wriitng the pages of our book that are familar and heart-warming. We smile- but know soon they will not be laughable- but nostalgic. Most of us live and breathe to find an understanding, a lover, a friend, a common thought residing in two souls. Myths? As soon as we acknowledge this incarnation, the connections are lost. We find our muse- then the thought is changed. We grow. We find there are new people to be found, then we find they are to be tossed again when the mind is new. We are ever-changing. Are we satisfied? We find a new satisfaction, though the old one held up fine. Bordom had intruded. This is the resemblance of the phases in our lives.
There is something to be discovered here, belonging and joy, alienation and heartbreak. We never change do we? Changing from month to month, my ideals of the "perfect companion" fluctuate. It is admittedly sound to say I get attached to the idea of people quickly. I am intrigued by participation and am pulled in by interest. I long for activity and infatuation- devotion. I devote myself in return. And then... I change again. On to the new best friend, lover, musician, author... a dream of compatibility.