midnight sparks

i just finished watching "nights in rodanthe". damn it, if nicholas sparks got me again. as i watched, kept checking the time to see how far into the movie i was, and how much longer it was going to take. not always a good sign. it's not that it was a long movie - in fact, i think it was under 2 hours. i just kept wondering when something bad was going to happen (because you know something is). in fact, something did but i didn't get teary when i found out something bad happened. i got teary when diane lane's character sank into such a state of despondence and depression that her 15 year old daughter had to pick up her pieces.

but that didn't make me sad. what made me sad is that i haven't felt that way about someone in so long. sure, i've gotten so attached to someone that i thought i felt that sad when they were no longer a part of my life. but feeling that heart-wrenching, stomach-twisting ache for someone...it's such a foreign feeling to me now.

i know the walls that i've put up are to keep me feeling safe and emotionally unhurt, but it's tough on a softie like me. i wonder sometimes when it all turned around for me; when did the walls begin to go up? it's one of those things you don't realize has happened until one day, you try to reach out and make a connection, but end up hitting the walls you've built around you (obviously not you, specifically, but you as a generalization).

i've always said that i never want to feel that kind of hurt again - it sucks, you know? what i am starting to realize is that i'm not just keeping hurt at arm's length; i'm keeping the potential for love at arm's length too. great love doesn't come without great pain (although i always think that love should be the dominant feeling, at least 90% of the time), just like great success doesn't come without great sacrifice. have i become so scared of the possibility of being hurt again that i've sacrificed my potential for an important facet of happiness?

the body and mind are such amazing mechanisms. the body's ability to heal itself is a constant source of wonder to me (it brings to mind my first trip to Mexico many years ago). and the mind's ability to facilitate physical healing is nothing short of a miracle. it fascinates me that while the mind has healing powers, it also has the power to cast doubt and raise suspicion in its thinker. like an awkward, teen-aged Clark Kent who is just discovering his powers or an aging wizard who has lost some control over his magic wand, sometimes the mind is so powerful, it can hurt itself and its owner.

i think it's time for bed.