Do you ever worry about romance?

I shake my head.

Sometimes, I wonder if it even truly exists.

I mean, I have had a lot of relationships, and while some have evolved into meaningful friendships, not a one has lasted romantically for even three years, and most not nearly that long.

I begin to wonder if I am at fault.

Which is worse: that I might be chasing away these relationships by being too neurotic, too immature, too unfinished, or that by discovering what I like and deciding what I value, by individuating, I am alienating those who might have walked with me had I chosen a different path.

I have been up in the balloon a lot recently --- really, if you have not had a chance, you must go to the isle of the equiangular castle and experience it for yourself ---

I stop myself midsentence, and shake my head again, quickly. Dismissively.

I suppose I went up in the balloon hoping that detachment would give me answers, seeing things from up there. I could get a different perspective, check out the real lay of the land, so to speak.

I laugh.

Either that or I wanted to symbolize the fact that I felt like I was of no use on earth.

So far, it has not worked. I still look back on my past romantic casualties, and feel a sort of numb despair.

Even now that I think I know what I would want in a romantic partner --- or at least, perhaps, what to avoid --- I still am not good at figuring out who has those qualities, and what are the subtle warning signs of trouble.

Perhaps Joshua is right, and this is merely post-breakup bitterness or melancholy. I hope so.

Grow up, move on. "There's lots of other fish in the sea." Horsefeathers. Maybe there are a lot of fish, but many of them, most of them, swim in schools of thought that I do not wish to be any part of.

Call me picky.

While you are at it, call me impatient.

I just have already done the "be involved --- break up --- go through painful introspection" thing enough times. Screw it! I do not want to try to revise my personality to better meet the next romance head-on. I am fine the way that I am.

I sigh.

We pass between two doors. I stop.

Did you want to take a ride in that balloon I mentioned earlier? We can talk about this more later.

I wave my arms about.

So you want to hear me ramble some more, eh?

Hmmmmm . . .