The more time I spend alone, the pickier I become. I don’t think that’s a bad thing. How do we know what we really want in life, in a lover, in a partner, in a friend, or in any relationship we have? We think we know, but do we really? All relationships require a certain amount of sacrifice, involvement, investment, and time. I sometimes think of all the time, energy, investment, and involvement I’ve wasted on some people and neglected to spend on others. Most of us are not wasteful with our money, but we don’t realize we need to protect our love and attention even more.
Perhaps I’m just becoming arrogant as I grow more independent. I’ve always been independent, but there was this one part of me that desired to be dependent on someone else, to let myself be consumed and lost in someone else, but I was never able to fully let go because I didn’t trust anyone, and now … well, now I find the idea troubling.
I was watching the first part of a mini-series about Marilyn Monroe yesterday, and while I don’t compare myself to Monroe, there were some things in that movie that struck a strong chord. The message they were trying to convey was that she did a majority of the things she did because she had this deep need inside to be loved. Though she was young and beautiful, and the world claimed to love her, she didn’t see it or feel it, and ultimately took her own life still searching for it. I’m not debating the rightness or wrongness of her actions, I won’t judge, but I will say that there was an inner child within myself that watched from the shadows and would often nod her little head and whisper, “She’s just a little girl that nobody wanted. She just wants somebody – the world – to love her, but you’re scared. You both run when you get scared. It’s comfortable being with those who only want to use you, because they can’t hurt you. But the ones that want to love you, scare you to death.” (Yes, I changed the ‘she’ to ‘you’ because that’s how it appeared in my imagination.)
Why are there so many Marilyns in the world?
This reminds me of the Lana Del Ray song Young and Beautiful – “Will you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful? Will you still love me when I’ve got nothing but my aching soul?”
I don’t think you will, but that’s okay, because I will.
Till next time,