What helps most in processing through my warring emotions and primal desires is reading how others have acclimated and advanced onward, as Bobby accounts:
The timeline seems painfully familiar, and it never really ends, right? Stages are supposed to progress linearly, like Super Mario Brothers, but all I end up doing is taking the warp pipe back to start. For years this has happened: same girl, same game. It's pathetic.
I wrote this way back in 2003:
You visit me more in my dreams than you do in real life, and I pick up the phone to hear your voice because I stumble into a small pocketed oasis of my unconsciousness, where everything is alright again, only to have illusions fade, oases disappear, phones turn into drool-soaked pillows. My eyes open and everything is back to the way it was. And the way it is.
I’m going to carry on like I have been, happy ecstatic joyful and loving of life, because my life right now is going well, and I love my job and I love my friends and not thinking about you is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.
Here we go again.
This wisdom-through-aging process is not working as intended. I might be defective.