Laments to the Night Sky

I have been contemplative of late - much more so than would be deemed healthy, I sadly note.

In my thoughts has been those I've loved in my lifetime - I will name no names, for that is not my place to do so. Some have known that I loved them, for I spoke the words plainly - others may not ever know, and that is just as well, I suppose.

Three that knew, though, held such differing opinions of me that I couldn't help but wonder - which was the real me they saw?

One, the earliest, viewed me as no one in particular - a random individual with no real characteristics that, somehow, she grew to love for a short time, before finding a better specimen.

The latest - the latest that I have spoken those dreaded words to, who, sadly, never returned the emotions, told me I was a romantic. She said I was one of the most romantic people she had ever met, and under different circumstances she could have loved me.

Another, just before her, thought of me as a broken, immature fool - who she loved, for a short time, nonetheless. She felt - and told me so, quite plainly - that I was not nearly romantic enough.

So, it begs the question - who am I? The romantic, the fool, or no one?

I suppose, in the end, I am all and none.

I love far too deeply, far too often, and see the magic in places where no one else does - this is the romantic in me.

I attempt to hide that part of myself away, replacing it with a silly act, or jokes at my own expense - always at my own expense. This the immature me.

I try to put these two together, to make the parts whole, to be both simultaneously - this is the random me.

So, who am I? I am no one, and I am everyone - I am myself.

I love far too much - thou, I suspect, I will never say those words again. No, it will but be whispers in the night, to the darkness as it overtakes me.

In my end, I fear, I will be none of the things I once was - the romance and beauty is gone, replaced with longing and doubt.

I guess it can be said _that_ is who I am.

I am the boy who could never have enough - and in the end, had had too much.