Fragmented Thoughts

A woman holds my hand.

I don't want to hurt you the same way he hurt me.

There was a boyfriend sometime ago. She stayed with him because she couldn't believe the only way response to lacking love for a beloved was a breakup. But then.... The longer you stay together, the harder it becomes to break apart, even, or especially, in the absence of love.

Why should we not break up? Friendships. Romance. Even family.

Why do you hope to be his friend one day?

Because I like his company. He makes me laugh.

I thought about that girl; I never made her laugh except when she laughed at me.

You're not ready for me. Just like those others before you. Why does it have to take so long for someone to become ready for me? Why have I never met someone who just jumps at the first sight, or even the tenth sight, hundredth, of me?

But at least she's mature. She holds me hand and speaks from courage and experience. She is so young, but so full of both. There are lines around her eyes, though. Are they lines of age or lines of courage and experience? I am impressed. But also my ego is bruised. Again. But I knew I was getting into trouble. So soon after that last woman. Jumping from one hot pot to the next. Hoping for what? I knew about her story, or stories, about that last man who used her, leaving her now so hurt and broken. What did I hope for? And yet, broken and hurt, she has the courage to take my hand and let me fall gently.

We saw our respective ghosts just half an hour earlier. That's what tango does to people, bringing ghosts into their lives. I saw her, but we again didn't even make eye contact. There is no room for the dimmest ember of love when I could easily tell myself where she was going afterward. She saw him, an unexpected appearance. He tried to ignore her. He pretended not to see her, and then pretended to be gentle and loving to her. Why people do such cowardice things?

And having seen our own recent ghosts, what did I expect? From an artist, a singer, a multi-talented human being. My art friend told me the obvious: it's too soon. Heal first. Heal first.

My best friend told me the same. Learn to be alone.

"Alma". That's the name of the central character in a book I read during my first trip to Buenos Aires. It is a gift from the ghost I saw. It is the name on a storefront this artist and I have passed by twice, and twice we mentioned the book. Like Alma she's a soulful, small Jewish woman.

She came for a reason, even though she will leave soon. She came to remind me that even a small woman like her who has experienced much more romantic pain in the fewer years she have lived on this planet, she managed to continue to be optimistic, hopeful, and beautiful from deep down.

"Do you know what Alma means in Spanish?"

"Yes. That's also the name in a book."

Multiply by two.

My best friend told me to give myself space. So I can remember to fall in love, remember I can fall in love. There is no reason to let those I wasn't in love with to ravage my life. She reminded me that the last time I fell in love was not a bad thing. That it didn't work out doesn't mean it was a bad thing. The only bad thing that could come out of that experience is to forget to fall in love first before letting someone hurt me.

Now I need some sleep. I woke up this morning thinking about the Alma in my living room. I tried to leave without disturbing her, but she sat up and asked if I wasn't going to say good-bye.

Sometimes I want to live in a story, even if it is hurtful every step, but at least every step is walked with love. It is terrible to live a life with so much hatred, anger, and the absence of hope and forgiveness.