Read my friend and ex Joseph's web journal this morning got me thinking a bit. But my thoughts were a little too extensive for a commentary, so I decided to move to it a separate entry.

I think we've all had the experience of being 'on the outside looking in' with regard to new love. And it's especially bittersweet when at least one of the people in question is a good friend, and we have no one comparable in our own lives. I've written an almost uncountable number of songs when in that mood and in that state.

So I started thinking about my own relationships, and lacks thereof. It hurts to be lonely, but it hurts even more to be in the wrong kind of relationship. That budding of first love is fantastic while it lasts, and when it lasts forever, it's a truly rare and notable thing. I certainly thought, as Joseph's and my relationship built to its peak that we would be there forever. My hope was so strong that it forced me to hold on long after it was clear it wasn't going to work that way.

There's something to be said for that tenacity. Absent the arguments, recriminations and hurtfullness, the moments when we reconciled or got back together were amazing. But in the end they weren't honest moments. That's not to say that WE weren't honest, but that we sacrificed a little of our honesty about a real future for the truth of the moment and the near future.

An interesting thing I've noticed in all of my relationships since the first one (with a girl ... really!) is that I've used the previous ones as a reference point. This in itself isn't so interesting. But I've found that I've doubted the truth, or even the identity, of my feelings simply because it didn't feel the same as it did last time.

I face that even now in my newest relationship. He's a wonderful person, warm and friendly, open and intelligent, adoring and adorable. At the same time as I say that I love him, I hear the word ring a little false and a little inadequate to the concept.

It doesn't feel like it did last time. It's safe to say, too, that I still love Joseph, and while I know that that love has an entirely different character that doesn't preclude my feelings for Mason, it still feels to me like it shouldn't be there. But neither can I, willingly or unwillingly, get rid of it. That would be dishonest in the extreme.

Nonetheless, I find myself wondering how long it will really last, if only because I'm still struggling with the veracity of my own emotions. I know, and I'm very lucky, that he adores me. And it brings both of us a sense of peace and permanence to make plans intended to take us not months but years into the future, perhaps even decades.

But still I feel like I'm being pulled a little faster than I'm comfortable with. But I'm better at putting on the brakes and saying no when necessary. I gained that from my time with Joseph. Whatever my hesitations, my man makes me very happy to be alive, and he inspires me to be my best.

Drawing to a close, it hurts at least a little bit to see Joseph feeling the tiniest bit lonely. And I know I'll experience a bittersweetness like his facing Brian and Paul, when and if he finds someone who makes him so happy and complete. It's a tiny lament for what could've happened with us, but in all likelihood never would have, even with different circumstances.

Whatever befalls my friends, ex's, family, etc., I've resolved to make sure they know they're neither alone nor forgotten, as long as I have breath in my lungs and a memory in my head.

On Livejournal, I'm only opening this to my friends, but over here I have so few readers I don't feel quite so nervous about opening myself up ;^).