Forgiveness is in Futility
I can't help but wish for things sometimes. This time, I wish to be appreciated. I could have kept this to myself ever longer. I could've buried it and pretended it went away. Instead, I brought it out in the open and forced myself to welcome it for the sake of the fragile state of the one I cared for. And now, when I had warned that I could do nothing, that my admission of love would bring nothing but hurt, Beanie is hurt again. And I feel diminished for it.
I want to be worth more than just a .. there really ought to be a word in the English language for a woman who is only worth something if she's in a relationship. It happens often enough. Especially to me. I had a dream last night that Beanie held my hand and told me goodbye. It broke my heart, but I was helpless and unable to do anything in return, because there was no patience, just like all the other times.
I feel less than worth the feelings some have for me, but for Beanie, I feel exceptionally humbled, like a king to a pit girl. But here there is no exceptional power to relieve me of the burdens of my responsibilities so that I can act on the insanely deep emotion that I feel, so I must sit and do what is right, love my children more and wish Beanie would simply be happy that I cared in return. But, I cannot. Beanie will not be satisfied and I cannot find a way that would justify acting on how I feel for him.
And here, I cannot tell anyone. There is no one to talk to, no one to confide in, no shoulder to cry on.
My Goddess, I need you now more than ever. Forgive me for loving what is innocent, but I cannot help my sorry heart.