If you don't love me, let me go

this is a decemberists song: the only one I know:

I'm an engine driver
On a long run, on a long run
Would I were beside her
She's a long one, such a long one

And if you don't love me let me go
And if you don't love me let me go

I'm a county lineman
On the high line, on the high line
So will be my grandson
There are powerlines in our bloodlines

And if you don't love me let me go
And if you don't love me let me go

And I am a writer, writer of fictions
I am the heart that you call home
And I've written pages upon pages
Trying to rid you from my bones
My bones
My bones

I'm a money lender
I have fortunes upon fortunes
Take my hand for tender
I am tortured, ever tortured

And if you don't love me let me go
And if you don't love me let me go

And I am a writer, writer of fictions
I am the heart that you call home
And I've written pages upon pages
Trying to rid you from my bones
I am a writer, I am all that you have hoped on

And I've written pages upon pages
Trying to rid you from my bones
My bones
My bones

(And if you don't love me let me go)
And if you don't love me let me go
(And if you don't love me let me go)
And if you don't love me let me go

this is not a very creative post...I'll go somewhere with it oneday...I'm actually not sad right now, I'm really happy. Very ancy (how do you spell ancy?), but happy. My wise Janet Aunt said something to me yesterday including the line, "if you don't love me, let me go"-- and I guess I'm brought (probably) to a U2 or CM (how do you tell someone) or REM (everybody hurts) song...where exactly does that love go? I mean, where did it come from? If you are calling nouns, they are persons, places, things, and ideas-- and when explaining that concept to 6th graders, the example for "idea" is ALWAYS love. Love is a many splendid thing...love lifts us up where we belong. What is love? It's a thing, but it's a special thing: it's an idea. An ideal even. I'm idealistic...another talk I had recently with Janet aunt referring to a kind email I received confirmed that. I get convinced that I'm realistic when I'm down, and then I realize that my head is always in the clouds-- I'm always hoping for better things and believing that everyone shares this hope-- but it's just not true. I wish you could. I wish you could share this hope-- this idealism, because it feels good. It's a warm, glittery, flittery feeling in my heart and it feels like home.

Okay, I wasn't going to go anywhere with this, but it seems like when i have writing for a grade due, I have lots of writing in my head worth writing down and maybe even sharing. :-/