"There are people one loves immediately and forever. Even to know they are alive in the world with one is quite enough." --Nancy Spain

I enjoy this quote for more than surface reasons. Mainly, it is where I came across it and in what context it was being used. However, it serves even more purpose as I am in the Republic of Korea at present. There are so many people I love that are half the globe away. I miss them, but my time here is golden. I've been having the best Summer of my life-to much of my own surprise-and I don't really want to go back "home" right now. This is my home. I love it. And though I miss them terribly, it is more than enough to know that they are alive in the world. I like talking to them all, too, but if I fail to get a hold of them for two weeks...I don't panic. They're alive. They are sharing this world with me, and that's quite fine.

I recently went through one of my lonely spats. I go through them far too often for my taste, but they are necessary for growth. When I'm single long enough to forget what it feels like cuddling the whole night through, but not long enough to forget how wonderful it is...I get this sense of desperate alienation from love. So what do I do? I cling to this sensation and let it anchor me at the bottom of my shallow sea of despair. I walk around, check up on the locals, then drift back up to the top after forcing out a few tears. Tears that don't come easy...

I'm slowly depressurizing as I ascend to the surface again, but it's a long process with a bit more to go. Normally, it doesn't hit so hard for such a long period of time. On average, the whole experience takes about two weeks. This time, it's been a month and I've still got a few more days for the effects to finish. I think it was my cleansing method that has taken such a toll on me.

Typically, I can make myself shed a tear in about and hour's time. It takes that one breaking point to send me back up to the surface, and from there I'm fine. Only, this time, I hit the breaking point three different times. In my bed, curled up in my own self-pity, and still no tears would flow. The old tricks failed miserably, and only aided in helping me to discover that it can always get worse. When I finally did succeed in crying, I was in public reading some carefully termed material.

I knew before I started that it was going to bring me past my limit with ease. I knew that it was going to hurt far more than was needed...and that this time, there'd be unseen and overlooked scars. Fortunate for me, I have a friend. 'Chele is the one friend that few know of, and even less know of by name. Yet, she's helped me through so much by simply knowing that she's there. This is the first time anyone has been around at my breaking point, and lucky me, the one person that could handle it...was there for me in silent aid.

I have a few more scars now. Not the physical kind, but I assure you that they're there. I'm back on my way up top, too. I'm loving it here in Korea, and I'm finally starting to have an ass-load of male friends. I don't really know what to say other than, "Thanks." For the tears. For the friends. For the memories of pain and joy alike. For life itself. Yup.

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Heart vs mind.