different

in German there is a proverb that says:
First of all everything turns out different
Secondly from what you thought.

How true, how true, baby blue.
It is ridiculous how much I love it to be by myself. True, true, being in love with you made all the difference. The prospect of seeing you, being with you, sharing with you, caring for you made being alone so much much more precious and wonderful. I had a lot of wonderful feelings and energy flowing through every second I was. The prospect and the pain of not being able to be with you was exactly as intense. It was the flipside of the coin and you still have my magic cube.

But -

Have I mentioned already how much I love my little refuge? The actual circumstances are seemingly as 'difficult' as before: I live in a living room. Is better for the money (the nonexistent). But - 'they' are hardly ever here. I have been alone in this room for many many a night and hours.
And I love when the sun sets and shines into our window and through the green filigran artwork of mother nature.
And the 'bohemian' lifestyle, how I called it for the lack of a better word, the one, in which I would explore the world and myself all by myself, came to visit and stayed when you left. Sure, I hated it. I condemned it. I cursed it. I screamed at it. I made love to it. You set me free, back on my track and I can't ever put into words what I am going through. Yes, I do love you. And this love just is the way it is. You can't lock it in a room. You can't put it in a relationship if it doesn't want to. You simply can't.

So I try to go about my life and it is so different. This is my refuge and I am about to reach out of it to touch the world. Once more. Burnt now, maybe, but more alive than ever. More reticent, more demure than before. Instead of desperately clinging to the oh so special magic in every cheesy hook up line I look right through it now - thanks to you - and I hold back a lot of my energy that I used to spill all over the world and whoever walked into it.
I reached out to your hand one fresh November night, not knowing what I got myself into. I got myself into the depths of my heart, of two-some-ness, of love, sharing, caring. I got myself into the depths of a human heart that had been hurt more than any other heart I've ever met, maybe, and most certainly any heart that I have ever loved. Into the depths of a human heart that was struggeling not to victimize itself, to fight through, to take on responsibility, to reach out for the light out of the darkness. I got myself into the world of failure and success, but the kind of success that you don't suspect. The little things that matter. I got myself into the world with you and without you and through all this back to myself.

Sacrifice a big issue, always, and so tangible with you. So connected to forgiving. To that which exceeds human beings.

I can't lie. I am not what you want me to be. But I love you.

You said,

I LOVE YOU. But I can't be with you. And I've been praying for a miracle. I've been praying for this to be true, not true, ignoring my own knowledge. Trying to push my will to work it out over my insight of what is right and true. Love hurts. Truth hurts and I love my little refuge. I love to be.