…is a stage.
Such is Sidey’s weekend theme.
Somebody said this at one time or other. Truer words have never been spoken.
We all live in a society that places much stock in appearances. How you look, where you live, how well your kids do – all measurements used to grade and judge you.
Some people worry about it, others don’t. I know I’ve never conformed to the standards put on me by society.
That being said, even I act my role.
The role of a person happy in their skin, comfortable with the hand they’ve been dealt. Act 1, scene 2 of finding a person that’s worth knowing. Somebody that can accept me as I am, that won’t mind my little foibles, and most of all, somebody whose foibles I can handle. Somebody that can make me want me to be a better person. Somebody that can inspire me to reach greater heights. And maybe, just maybe, I can have that same effect on him.
I have already met that person. I’ve shared a lifetime of happiness with him. And had to let it all go. Because life happened.
Now I’m acting on life’s stage.
Going through the motions of finding somebody to share my life with. Acting as if I don’t get hurt by the rejections, by the apathy in people. Putting up a brave, strong front – because the world is not really interested in your pain.
They’re not too worried about the longing in your heart at night when everything is quiet.
Does not phase them in the slightest that you long for the one thing you can not have.
So yes, in my life, I’m acting the greatest role of my life.
The role of a together woman with no wants and needs not being met. That handles life’s curve-balls, that takes everything in stride. That can manage without the one that holds her heart.
I suppose the longer you act your role, the more you start believing it.
But there’s always a little niggle. Always something to remind you.
And for the most part, I’m happy for those reminders. Since it reminds me of a life that was fulfilled. Happy. Cherishing. Content.