Beloved, do handstands. Leap into the air! Reach the stars. No two days are obliged to be the same. Not every rose has to be the same shade. Not every day has to repeat itself. Nor must one day compete with another. Easy does it.
Nor are two loves replicas of any other.
And why does it break your heart that each love is different, and one seems more or less worthy than another, or do you always play the same card and your heart is broken and wilted once again regardless?
You haven’t figured it out. Do you always expect too much, or is it that you don’t expect enough?
Sometimes you feel you never loved enough, or you feel you were never, by a long-shot, loved enough. Either you settled or you were simply not up for more. You gave too much or too little, or what can you make of it?
Why do you keep playing the same cards over and over?
Were you perhaps trying to win or lose, or did you really have any say about it?
You wonder if other people keep casting past loves back and forth. What should you have done? What else could you have done?
Sometimes, in terms of love, you have no idea, yet it sure feels that something didn’t come out right. Or is it only an idea that there is a right or wrong or just what is. How do you know if you climbed a fence or fell down it?
There are times you are perfectly clear that you look around too much. You are not someone else. You never were, yet you have never quite tallied who or what you are .
You do feel that you missed some steps. Of course, too, you also missed some slip-ups.
You really can’t go back in life and try it out again. You will never know what might have been and what might not have been. How do you know, and when all is said and done, why do you care? Do you ponder more about the past than others, and why do you? You don’t succeed in getting the past fixed up. Did you ever learn anything anyway?
Where you too influenced from reading romantic novels?
You may have become sadder, yet you not wiser. How can anyone full know what is wiseest or all?
Sometimes you feel you learned so much, and sometimes you are certain you learned nothing at all.
And, yet, honestly, would you choose another life? You can’t undo the life you led, no matter what. And you’re not done yet.
It never have been easy for you to make up your mind.
Sometimes you think that once a fool, twice a fool. Surely, you are a fool to weep over the past, that which is done and over with — or apparently not. You are not even sure what was good and what was not good, and how on earth would anyone know?
How did you, in this life, ever have the nerve to advise anyone else? You haven’t learned all that much but to rue. A fine how-do-you-do this is.
You see you’re like Lady MacBeth. “Out, damned spot.” Only you really don’t know what you have so much to rue beyond the fact that too many dreams did not come true, and why do you waste so much time thinking about why you aren’t more like other people, and why you ponder the past so? If you didn’t like the past that much, then why keep going on and on about it? Why don’t you get on a different bus now?