we haven’t talked in a few weeks, but it’s been over for months. he won’t be the next to call and it seems i won’t/can’t call now either. there’s nothing new to say. it’s undoubtedly over and yet… i keep rereading the love letters, chats, emails – 880 in one year, looking for the lessons to be learned. instead, it just makes me fall back in love with him. then i go to sleep alone, blurry eyed, lungs tight, and have to break myself from him all over again overnight. what have i failed to learn from this year? how did we allow our attachment to stitch our two selves together over so much when he wasn’t going to be there? he says he never stopped loving me and it appears i love him still. in truth, i still love anyone i’ve ever really loved. but, christ, this one hurt extraordinarily. this has been a wrenching year and the times i was devastated by this cruel, perfect man outnumbered the pleasures. what drives me mad still is how little sense it makes. how did we manage to get so entwined if we wanted such different things? how did it all fall apart if we had all these passions still strong? how am i here on this other side feeling whip-lashed by his love and indifference, unable to see how far back i turned the wrong way? how does a person love without wanting? risk without trusting? of course the reason that i won’t call is because there’s someone else. or three. i’ve given the dating sites three busy months. it’s diverting, sure, but it’s honest. this is what we do. we pack up our hearts, stand up straight, and attempt some grace as we give it another go. i am amazed at the honesty, charm, and effort i’ve found in particular dates. it’s a sweet salve and while dating is itself a precarious task, it serves many desires and demands the audacity we broken hearts need to find to wake up again tomorrow. i’ve been overwhelmed and swept up in the delight of others who seem to want my time and attention and appreciate whatever it is that makes me appealing to strangers. this grief is so tricky. he didn’t die. he didn’t leave again as far as i know. he’s there. so close and alive and living his life exactly as before, just with a space beside him that used to hold me. there aren’t condolences. i don’t feel allowed to just be sad. it’s an expectation that i find revenge, that i account his wrongs, that i regret. i can’t do any of those things. i just … won’t. so i’m looking for the growth, the point, the mercy. trying to be wiser, stronger, and braver than before. a man in the line of the hurricane is pulling on my me and i’m trying very hard to enjoy how incredible it feels to want someone so wonderful. instead, i press my breast and think, “god, this is going to hurt.” here’s to another go in one direction and staying gone in the other. Source: redamancylit.wordpress
Posted on: Tue, 25 Feb 2014 11:10:23 +0000
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