I’ve always had a complicated relationship with longing.
As I am deeply pragmatic almost to the point of extreme, it is not a feeling I am all that terribly acquainted with. I like it this way. Longing is the type of emotion that I cannot process on any sort of intellectual level because it makes no rational sense to me. You want something. You crave it with all your being. But, for whatever reason, you can’t have it. So, why continue to long?
But we do, don’t we? Certainly I do. The intervals at which I feel a longing, a tugging at my heart for something I cannot have, are so few and far between that it feels like the first time. Every time. I am never any better at dealing with it.
I keep telling myself it is natural. It is human. To want. To crave. That it doesn’t make me less than or weak or faulty or flawed.
But I never believe me.