My roommate loves so differently than I. She loves brightly, fiercely, passionately. It can be summoned up quickly, leaving her in the fire's embrace after a single shared glance. Likewise it can end just as rapidly, banking the flame to a single lonely ember of friendship, a love tempered by knowledge and sadness.
Sometimes I feel as if I am a shadow next to her. She lives her life exuberantly, jumping head-first into life changing decisions, ruled by her heart. I am slow to act, reluctant to make decisions -- but when finally summoned, my love resists snuffing, leaving a hot core burning within me long after the object of my affection has quit the scene.
I think that my latest near-miss still affects me more than I am willing to casually admit. I so rarely make the first move, place the first call, that a failure makes me even less likely to do so in the future. I was (eventually) turned down so gently, with such patient understanding, that I vacillate between a surge of double-intensity feeling for him, and indignance at his condescension.
A commercial I saw today asked me the question, "Why do you sometimes want to be alone, but never lonely?" It struck me hard; struck me as particularly poignant, as well as apropos. Perhaps later I will allow myself to realize that the perfectly obvious answer negates the wittiness of their phrasing.
Another night approaches, filled with strange dreams I can ponder and comb for hidden signs and meaning. My dreams are most vivid during times of emotional upheaval - and the sheer volume of nocturnal imaginings lately has left me quite unsettled. Think of me tomorrow, and wish me luck in unraveling strange portents.