So I've been thinking again. About a lot of things. But mostly the hurt we inflict upon others, the pain of missing loved ones, and communication.
I miss my family, terribly so again. I miss being able to hold my babies and snuggle and kneel for prayer each night and give hugs and kisses to those who mean the most to me. I miss laughing and playing and quarrelling and teasing with kids that have known me for me for such a long time.
I miss my parents and grandparents and extended family. I miss the closeness that we once shared that now, seems to have slipped away...
I miss my friends. I miss my wonderful girl friends and the absolutely marvelous times we have together. I miss being able to just goof off, look like an idiot, and having three other people along who just join in or initiate the fun. I miss my guy friends, both the ones I talked to almost constantly for the past while, and those I haven't had a good conversation with in ages. I miss just having a good companion to hear stories, with no strings attached. They don't expect me to fix all their problems (or even help them with their troubles) and be there for them 100% of the time, nor do I them. And in that we were strong, yet flexible.
Hurt, the hurt we bring to others by not listening to them, and by not talking to them. I guess I'm feeling the former and inflicting the latter? Somewhere along the line, we not only stopped talking, we stopped communicating. And that hurts me, even more than the not talking.
Communication. This morning I woke up, talked with my aunt for a while, and just reveled in the feeling. I love that woman so much and often do not do the best job of showing her so.
...And that seems to be a tendancy I have for those who are dearest to me.
I've been reading more and more, there's not much other to do when you're up at midnight and the whole rest of the house is asleep. I have about six different places marked in my scriptures and will just pick them up, open to one, and start reading. Ether is really good as is Alma. Although in Ether they have a land of Moron, which I laughed about upon reading.
Thinking about dreams and ideals. Imaginings I had as a child that now, seem to either be becoming increasingly true, or terribly not. I guess that's where things land though. One way or the other. But are dreams really worth it then? What is the point of having something that doesn't happen, imagining things better than they turn out to be.
Then I think of the phrase, Stand for something or you'll fall for anything. And wonder where the optimist in me is hiding. I know she's in there somewhere and that she's still with me part of the way everyday. But the active optimist, where did she run away to?
I guess this is what I'm here for, to find her again.