"We're not that close"

I've heard that so many times, it can't even make me sick anymore. 

I'm never close enough.

I don't know why I'm stupid enough to keep trying. To keep believing that "maybe this time" that line won't be drawn. I guess I'm figuring it out now. The line doesn't have to be drawn. It's a permanent fixture. Like a creature on display, I stare out at the souls that pass me by. 

Sometimes they simply glance in my direction. Sometimes they don't look at all. On occasion, they approach, put their hand up to the glass and gaze at me on the other side. And when I touch the other side, for an instant, we are connected. We share our amazement at that contact, a bridging of differences that makes us one...but only for a short while. I can only hold their interest for so long before they move on. Pulled by time, fate, friends...things more important. Things on their side of the glass. Sure, I stand as a witness to the lives of hundreds. I play shape-shifter. Turning into whatever my audience needs me to be. I am counselor, benefactor, magician, friend, but I'm never close enough. 

What is the secret, then? When do I qualify for the magic of being "that close"? Are we all just floating in some sort of relational ether that separates of from one another eternally, or is it as it seems, that I am the one that must be confined. For the good of humanity, I suppose, I must not be allowed to get "that close."

Why the heck does it matter, then? Who cares if I believe the worst of people? I've tried believing the best. Giving my all. I've tried kindness, the benefit of the doubt, being reliable, being honest, being open, being everything. And when I utter a wayward comment that reveals how much it hurts to be so alone...

"People aren't really that bad."

"You just have to believe in them."

"There will be someone out there for you to connect with."

This heart of mine can only bleed so much.