Nostalgia

What is it about spring that makes me nostalgic? I don't actually miss things or people from before, it's just that things are different, and in spring I remember. I remember a lot of things that it would be easier to forget, but I wouldn't be the same without them. *Maria called me a romantic, and I can chart the waxing and waning of that over time, the ripening and fullness, the rotting and death. Innocence, discovery, passion, abandon, loss, bitterness, defeat, callousness. There's nothing new, it's all a cycle I have done before, but each time it lasts longer. And every time I'm afraid of the same things. Maybe I am learning to trust myself. Maybe with each repetition it sinks in a little more, but every time it peaks I worry about the descent. The pain scares me, but the callousness scares me more. Someone will tell me I'm not very subtle, and I'll explode. I never know how much to give, and it's the imprecise measuring that gets me every time. When I want someone I offer them all of myself, not knowing how much of it they'll want. They express interest, and then I reveal that I've held something back. First it was reality, then truth, then edges, then my heart, then my sanity, then my body. Now I can't find what I kept. I've given everything I have this time, and I'm more afraid than ever. I've offered up everything, even the freedom to walk away. I could get away if things turned bad, but I've banked on them staying good. Let go of the fear and join the moment. How long will this moment last?