Ramblings of Caraline

spread my wings outright and long

and is it me or

is it you that cannot see

I don't know what shifted in my mind set, or when it happened, or even where I was standing. I just remember the first time that I thought to myself, "am I ever going to love, and I mean truly love, an individual in such a way that it is in more than that of a friendship?"

I think that as you age, reality slowly sinks into your being like a slow fog disintegrating into the universe once the sun comes back out. But low and behold, the fog keeps rising again, a daily reminder.

love, it is wild and it is elusive.

I like guys. I like guys that are different. Not on purpose, but it's just what I seem to be drawn towards. The broken bird, bird with a broken wing. But then I stop and think, am I one of them. One of the broken birds. They say you seek the love you think you deserve. I think I deserve good. But I am a different bird, my own breed, raised by a strange flock of strange birds.

Just recently I came upon another strange bird, but yet his own breed. I do not feel overwhelming love, desire, or need to be with him. But I do not feel the opposite either. Birds of a feather flock together, and we are very similar but with our own design of flight.

What if I needed, but did not want, or wanted and did not need?

love does not begin, nor does it end. It circulates and fluctuates. Every being has its own way, its own adaptations. And what works for one specie may not work for another.

You cannot fly if you never open your wings.