There is a movie out there, it doesn’t matter which one really, that has a line that haunts me;
“You think life goes on forever? You think behind every chance there’s another chance and another one and another? It’s the worst kind of extravagance the way you spend your chances”
I have spent so many chances that I wonder, have I spent them all? Are there no more chances in that big black bag for me? Another line from a film that has made an impression;
“Oh, no, no, dear. It’s better as it is. And I’m glad if he and Amy are learning to love each other. Oh, you’re right about one thing, though. I am lonely. And maybe if Laurie had come back, I might have said yes. Not because I love him any differently, but because, well, because it means more to me now, to be loved, than it used to”
It’s true, you know. As I’ve grown older, each year it means more to me, to be loved. And I am alone. Friends are lovely but they are not what my soul needs and what my heart breaks for. I’ve thrown away so many chances for such foolish reasons that I don’t know if I’ll ever have another chance, deserve another chance.
I’ve been presented with another chance recently but I am so afraid. Afraid that it’s not what it seems, a REAL chance. It might be chance parading as heartbreak and I don’t know if I would survive another crack in the thinly varnished seal that is my heart. I have the same complaints and questions as anyone else in my position has about “why me” and I finally understand why they all look so broken. It’s because I am broken. I understand.
More than anything in this life, I want arms wrapped arounf me telling me it’s all going to be fine and that I am loved and that I mean more to that one person than anything else in this world.
In this, we are all united.
To be loved.
It means more to me now.
