The next best thing.
I used to think I'd never settle for anything less than the best. Or, at the very least, what I perceived to be "the best" and at the same time, what I truly wanted for myself. But often "the best" isn't neccessarily what's best for you.
Why do people end up marrying not the person they're madly in love with, but rather the stable, stoic one they can envision themself growing old with 50 years from now? Is being comfortable and simply "content" (despite knowing that most certainly there are better things in store for you out there and really, this isn't at all what you wanted or set out for) the practical subsitute for love and lust and the giddy fluttering in your chest that a relationship (long-term or not irregardless) is theoretically supposed to involve?
Is laughter > lust?
And maybe two people were actually meant to be together, or maybe not. But even when they are perfect for each other, it doesn't necessarily happen; or perhaps when it does, it happens if and only if at the right time.
30 (or even 10) years down the road, I don't want a digressive torrent of nervous niceties, banal chat, cagey evasions, earnest philosophizing and strategic confessions, all the while trying to keep regrets and what-ifs at bay.
It's all good to fantasize about respective would-be beaus and decadent chateaus in the heart of Paris, but greater yet is the knowledge that eventually, the probability that you'll end up with an average man, the average income, setting up the average home in an average town, juggling an average job with burgeoning motherhood, and embodying all those same attributes you once thumbed your nose at; is far more realistic.
Odd how the closer you get, the more distant I want to be.
Maybe I'm the next best thing.
***
Past the arms of the familiar
And their talk of better days
To the comfort of the strangers
Slipping out before they say
So long
"Run Baby Run" - Sheryl Crow
I used to think I'd never settle for anything less than the best. Or, at the very least, what I perceived to be "the best" and at the same time, what I truly wanted for myself. But often "the best" isn't neccessarily what's best for you.
Why do people end up marrying not the person they're madly in love with, but rather the stable, stoic one they can envision themself growing old with 50 years from now? Is being comfortable and simply "content" (despite knowing that most certainly there are better things in store for you out there and really, this isn't at all what you wanted or set out for) the practical subsitute for love and lust and the giddy fluttering in your chest that a relationship (long-term or not irregardless) is theoretically supposed to involve?
Is laughter > lust?
And maybe two people were actually meant to be together, or maybe not. But even when they are perfect for each other, it doesn't necessarily happen; or perhaps when it does, it happens if and only if at the right time.
30 (or even 10) years down the road, I don't want a digressive torrent of nervous niceties, banal chat, cagey evasions, earnest philosophizing and strategic confessions, all the while trying to keep regrets and what-ifs at bay.
It's all good to fantasize about respective would-be beaus and decadent chateaus in the heart of Paris, but greater yet is the knowledge that eventually, the probability that you'll end up with an average man, the average income, setting up the average home in an average town, juggling an average job with burgeoning motherhood, and embodying all those same attributes you once thumbed your nose at; is far more realistic.
Odd how the closer you get, the more distant I want to be.
Maybe I'm the next best thing.
***
Past the arms of the familiar
And their talk of better days
To the comfort of the strangers
Slipping out before they say
So long
"Run Baby Run" - Sheryl Crow
thus spoke Noelle at 8/24/2004 07:52:00 PM
