When it's ajar!
No. Seriously.
I've never had a real breakup. Not really. I met Aaron when I was 13. We started dating when I was 14. We broke up once. That was real. But the thing is-- we got back together and it all worked out. Happily the fuck ever fucking after.
So when I fell in love this time--and fell really fucking hard--and it really truly really honestly couldn't work? Whoosh. Rough.
Ok. I won't use euphemisms. It was brutal. Talk about broken heart. Ripped out, wrung out, and then left for vultures.
My fault. I own it. I accept all the blame.
But. Sheesh.
The self-doubt that accompanies it. The miserable self-loathing. The vitriol and the what if. The weeping and the wondering.
So. I had my very first break-up. No matter how we swore we'd still be friends. It just couldn't happen. Not right away. I waded in too far, nearly drown myself, and so, naturally, needed to stay out of those dark, murky waters for a while.
So how does one find closure if they're too chicken-shit to go back and look for it? They don't. They live with lingering questions and they cling to the mistakes and the good times both. They exist in this toxic, miasmic sort of limbo where everything is distrorted, very little is real, and it makes healing a slow, torturous process.
But how in heaven's name can there be closure when no one really closes a door? No one really says final words, goodbyes, fare-thee-wells and puts the whole debacle in the past?
I don't know, but I guess I'm going to find out :)
Because the roads of communication are open once more.
And I didn't crumple. And I didn't make a complete ass of myself. And honestly? It felt pretty good. I can say I was breathing easier after than I was before.
So. In tumblr fashion, a pictorial representation of my reunion:
No. Seriously.
I've never had a real breakup. Not really. I met Aaron when I was 13. We started dating when I was 14. We broke up once. That was real. But the thing is-- we got back together and it all worked out. Happily the fuck ever fucking after.
So when I fell in love this time--and fell really fucking hard--and it really truly really honestly couldn't work? Whoosh. Rough.
Ok. I won't use euphemisms. It was brutal. Talk about broken heart. Ripped out, wrung out, and then left for vultures.
My fault. I own it. I accept all the blame.
But. Sheesh.
The self-doubt that accompanies it. The miserable self-loathing. The vitriol and the what if. The weeping and the wondering.
So. I had my very first break-up. No matter how we swore we'd still be friends. It just couldn't happen. Not right away. I waded in too far, nearly drown myself, and so, naturally, needed to stay out of those dark, murky waters for a while.
So how does one find closure if they're too chicken-shit to go back and look for it? They don't. They live with lingering questions and they cling to the mistakes and the good times both. They exist in this toxic, miasmic sort of limbo where everything is distrorted, very little is real, and it makes healing a slow, torturous process.
But how in heaven's name can there be closure when no one really closes a door? No one really says final words, goodbyes, fare-thee-wells and puts the whole debacle in the past?
I don't know, but I guess I'm going to find out :)
Because the roads of communication are open once more.
And I didn't crumple. And I didn't make a complete ass of myself. And honestly? It felt pretty good. I can say I was breathing easier after than I was before.
So. In tumblr fashion, a pictorial representation of my reunion:
 |
| Walked 4 miles through Borderland! |
 |
| A lot of catching up to do! I talked her ear off about my issues! |
 |
| Healthy Fruit Picnic |
 |
| Confession Time. |
 |
| Spirituality and Souls. |
 |
| This painting is entitled "Leap of Faith" |
 |
| Friends. Warm Feelings. Plans for next time. |
 |
| So healing begins? Feels like a bandaid on a compound fracture, lol, but its a start! |
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1 comment:
A happier collage. I absolutely love the Leap of Faith picture!
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