There’s nothing to explain, nothing to fix. My heart aches with so many of life’s disappointing turns, I can’t dwell on just one to allow it to finish it’s course. It lives within me always and awakens when it will, like a dragon who has killed it prey yet still lurks for more.

A grief that never goes away, hides in waiting for a moment that the energies of the universe provide another revisit, another shadow set to light, another memory. Loss comes in so many flavors and the strongest reminds me that we were supposed to be in this together. If only I had not lost the lesson before I had learned it was not your burden to carry, I was not your soul to save. You did give it a good try.

I hate that I’m not over you yet. I hate that I don’t even recognize you. I hate that we ruined each other and it took bowing out to become who we are today, fragments of what we promised.


A real life story to add to the twisted words that play through my mind…

Today, I saw a group of girls. They were happy and laughing. They were dealing with drama. They were just on the brink of teenagedom. At first they made me smile and laugh as they joked and teased the one who had to “poop.” (If you didn’t know, it’s not always the boys with the fart jokes.)

Then I sat with my ex. The one I left. The one I met when I was 12. The same age as these young girls. Except I wasn’t hanging out at sporting events with my friends laughing and making jokes when I was 12. I was getting high and stealing alcohol. Or just taking whatever any grown man would give because for whatever reason (which we all know), grown men will buy for little girls.

I was doing everything I could to push any feeling of unworthiness out of me. And I met him. He had his own shit. I didn’t know it at the time. All I know is he felt great. I felt safe with him. Like we could conquer the world together. And we did. We did it by fighting and struggling and otherwise ruining each other for 21 years. Until I couldn’t recognize us any longer. I didn’t recognize myself, nor him. And so I ran. Something I’ve always done, but never from him.

Yet there I was. Back to the beginning. Sitting in a space occupied by youth experiencing the joys of friendship and sport, next to the man I no longer saw as my hero, trying my best to keep it together. I made it the whole time, I kept it together, returning to my previous status of what I like to call “zombie mode.” Until I left. And then I cried. And I imagined what I might say to someone who’d ask me what’s wrong…..Seriously, I cannot pack a lifetime into a conversation to explains my current sobs. But someday I hope to find the one who will sit next to me and understand that I just cry sometimes.


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