No Other Way

Whatever disappointment there might be in never having had a worthy, lasting lover — it would have been more disappointing to have lived less solitarily in misery. 

No matter the deficit to health and longevity there might be in the lack of a community circle or coalition of friends, a moia — the benefit of the peace associated with any missing contempt or discord in an unhappy one might suffice to make up a little for the lack thereof in a different, possibly equally significant way.

Where are they hiding — those ones who one can get along with? Maybe there are actually those who fare better without any outside intervention. Does anybody know if there are any made as such or should one try to change if one is able?

But still, it isn’t over and there can always be that a road untraveled yet could expose another option — one that has in it a hand to hold and walk along with — and remain pleasant. One where the other is enough the same or just the right different — a perfect measure of both or simply happen to have come along at proper timing.

If one has only one is one enough?

There are plenty to tell the story of how bad it can get after any good that it might have been has been exhausted. And there are those who have ways of telling of mistakes that can be avoided if one wants to — but most don’t — want to know or try to avoid what doesn’t look at all like it could possibly be a mistake — yet.

It’s fun to go along before things start getting rough — it’s not so fun to keep from going any further once the roughness seems to have gotten to be more than anyone can possibly bear.

More than anyone can possibly bear seems more possible to bear than something being bearable in solitude it seems most people think.

Unbearable or alone — the lesser of two evils — equal measures of the same distraught.

It has made a difference in how she proceeded that she started out for the most part in a system of aloneness. Even though there were others in the equation, they were all circling the family circle in a circle of spiraling dysfunction — no outer circle — each to each’s own demise or prosper upon the disintegration of the unit. All a matter of time as everything is, even good things are.

Things change.

Good leavings are rocks as opposed to sand from which to build upon again though.

But it’s all just life. There are no guarantees. Each moment is an opportunity for a new discovery — another chance to find a thing, the thing, that has gone missing up to then no matter the place one might have started.

There is no pity for any other than those that don’t continue to bother. They are the losers of the shining that is in so many sorrows. Keep getting up and going — there is no other way of knowing.