Truly

I wrote wild passionate poetry for every new year for years and years and years. It was always about seeking something I couldn't find; about disappointment and hurt feelings and anger. A very poor way to start anything new.

Then I was divorced and the first year I wrote about sorrow. The second year I was madly in love again. In the old way. With the old expectations, the same disappointments and new pain too. Yet I was hoping for new results. I really am an optimist.

Now I have lived alone long enough to not only be reconciled to it, but to have evolved enough to enjoy it.

Now the main people in my life know me and value me for exactly who I am. It only takes one or two of those to greatly enrich a life. The other people in my life are there because we have a mutual appreciation of each other.

I was shocked to learn I am one of those people who really does need to surround myself with space, but still wants close personal relationships.

I guess that makes me a true loner, but being a loner and being lonely are two entirely different things..

I have never felt more loved than I have this year and I think I have loved more wholly, more honestly, and with less fears this year too.

I look at this and find it clumsy, but it is heartfelt and very late.