It's been a very long time since my last post but there is something I need to express before my head explodes.  It's been a long time since I have experienced anything even remotely close to love... a very long time.  No crushes, no real interest - no real want for those feelings.  I've been trying to adapt to a new school and new kids and new traditions and it has been mind boggling.  However, today I followed through with meeting someone I have been talking to for a little while now.  I had a sneaking suspicion that I didn't want to meet this person because I felt it would mess with my head... I was right.  I can't stop thinking and hoping and wishing and imagining and being absolutely terrified.  Terrified of rejection, terrified of acceptance, terrified of things that may never even have the chance to evolve.

The most romantic thing happened to me today - a single flower was picked from a private garden and given to me.  I came to learn that it was a grape hyacinth and although it was tiny, it smelled wonderful.  I also came to learn that the fragrance is why it was given to me.  A single, tiny, vibrantly purple flower that smelled wonderful.  However, what happened before that was unreal making the flower just that much sweeter.  I was being told of a song that was sung frequently by this person and their friends when they get together.  The song is "Cakes and Ale" and I think comes from a Shakespeare play if I'm not mistaken.  Imagine that; people still sing songs when they are just hanging out and having a drink and spending time with the people they care about... and this happens to be a song dating back to the 16th century or earlier.  What made it so special is that a snippet of the song was actually sung to me right there in the garden.  I was SUNG to!  I don't care how cheesy it seems, it was like being transported back to a time when courting was a real thing and sweetness and thoughtfulness were expected and respected.  A walk through a private garden with the invitation "do you have time for a walk through the garden" was issued wherein I was sung to and given a sweet smelling flower.  I was later texted a photo of a beautifully blossoming plant from the same garden.  No wonder there were fainting sofas everywhere in times past - it's all a person can do to stand such simple, sweet and somehow overwhelming gestures.  Where are my smelling salts?! The flower is currently gracing the music desk on my harpsichord.

I hurt, I yearn, I feel.  It's been a while, but through the fear, I feel alive.

And now to finish my bloody mary.