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Warning for random crap I think about when I’m sick. 😉

So there’s this odd little song called “Jessie” by Joshua Kadison that I have loved ever since I was a ridiculously romantic teenager who had never even kissed a boy. Here:

For those who can’t be bothered listening to it, it’s about this guy who gets a phone-call from his great and hopeless love and hearing from her totally throws him, because he knows it’ll never work because of who she is, but he wants to believe her because even though he knows it’s doomed, he loves her so.

And I realise suddenly that I love it so much because I relate so intensely to BOTH OF THEM. I have been the flighty un-pin-downable girl that a boy loves so much he’ll keep letting her back when he knows he shouldn’t. And I’ve had those loves I keep allowing back in even when I know I should slam the door and hang up the phone and walk away.

I get both of them. I AM both of them. I even have that hopeless love. Hell, I have a few past lovers who could probably still show up on my doorstep and I’d let them back in even though I probably shouldn’t.

From the other side, I don’t make that call any more. I used to (one way or another). I don’t any more, partially because I’ve finally shaken off the less pleasant reasons I had for feeling like I needed to do that. And partially because I’ve realised how damaging that can be for them. And partially because I can’t settle any more for anything less than the Big Love thing. And if you’re only calling them when you have that powerful yearning to be loved like that, or out of a weird nostalgia for whatever they may have seen in you, well, that’s not Big Love. That’s something else. Something I try not to indulge any more. Because I’m better than that now. I hope, anyway.

And yet I still love hearing from mine when they call. And mine call. Still.

Maybe we’re all both of them at one point or another. Maybe that’s why this silly ditty with its bad eighties hair and saccharine lyrics somehow needles its way into my heart and sends me down this navel gazing road. Maybe you know just what I mean. 🙂

I still have my Jessie. I have a couple. And they can still, usually, sell any dream to me. Not because I’m naive enough to believe them. But because I want to. Because, despite everything, I still have a little bit of that overly romantic teen in me.

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