I know, sounds like a bad commercial. Its true though. My obsession is in living FOR those I love, wanting them to be happy, and more, willing for that to happen to the exclusion of everything else. It's as if I can only be happy if they are, and god knows, those I get around are very rarely happy. As long as I don't care about them, this isn't a problem. Nothing I hate more than a whiner, and I avoid them like the plague.

Certain people though, have the ability to act half-way normal, to draw me to them by sheer presence, by my weakness, or , hell by magic maybe, I don't know, and only when the noose is fully tightened and I care about them beyond going back, only THEN do they bring out the litany of their insurmountable problems and needs and wants. Then my life becomes making these things real for them, or trying to be enough in and of myself to make them forget and just be as happy with me.

Everyone wants more, and I so very rarely do. I am only truly unhappy, actually 'miserable' would be more like it, when I can't make these seekers, these clingers, these drowning men and women that I've created, content. It's not their fault. Well mostly not, a few have used it to advantage before, but not many. I create my own monsters. I act like I care because I actually DO care, and want them to open up because getting things out in the open is the only way I know to deal with shit.

It's what I do. I don't expect the people who listen to my problems to instantly fix them, or even to try to fix them. Talking feels good, so I talk. Why do I think those who open up to me need (or deserve) to be 'fixed', to be treated like a disease you can find a cure for? I've been told that my attitude is an insult, and maybe it is. I don't do it for the wrong reasons. I do it because I love them. Deeper, I do it because I want to be loved. My self-regard being...Well, lets be honest here, nil, I don't see any other reason these people would stay with me, would talk with me, beyond the fact that I can 'help'. I MUST be freakin 'dear abby' cuz they sure as hell aren't hanging round to be with ME.

So my 'being there' for everyone is an extremely selfish thing, in the end. Nor is it 'love' in anything but a general sense. Which was very recently pointed out to me . Which is why life seems suddenly better. No, I'm not in love anymore, never was, really, but I'm not miserable anymore either. I've been alone most of my life. I know alone, I can do alone, and yep its better than being in pain, especially when there was no joy to go along with it. My true love is out there somewhere...And chances are they'll make my happy more often than they'll hand me any anguish.... Hmm...Well a girl can hope, can't she?? ¶ Anne let this go at 10/23/2003 06:44:00 PM