There’s still hope I might die young. It was much more likely when I was suicidal. But people have accidents all the time. Random acts of violence. Collateral damage. Communicable diseases. Whenever I feel like life is too hard, my heart is too heavy, and I just want to be released from this flesh vessel; I tell myself- There’s still hope.
This is one of those things I’m proud to have written but know better than to turn into a Facebook post.
I lost the man I love. I’m trying to put my pieces back together- after the most transforming year of my life thus far. I had an affair. I fell in love. I left the man I’d planned to marry. I became a musician. I got a cat. I met myself- again, and again, and again- down a rabbit hole, over the rainbow, and back through the looking glass. I lost the man I love… and I became a writer.
One never allows herself to believe she is something until people recognize her as it- Is that a sentence? I think I talk funny. Write funny. I do act a little funny. I try to see myself from the outside… I have always analyzed my behavior. But I never really saw myself from the outside until I met him. It really was- like seeing myself in a mirror. He opened my eyes in so many ways. More than he could have tried, if he was trying. I supposed I’ll never know… I suspect that he will have selective memory about how our time together -and not together- transpired. I am sure I will. Someday.
For today, I’m going to remember that I spent most of the year, thinking he didn’t want me enough. He would keep me at a distance. He would only call me after last call. He would raid my kitchen for snacks. He would hold back- I would hold back- come to a stand still… and then fall for someone else… ?
March 22, 2012.