The Many Names

I am grieving in solitude. My closest friend is also grieving alone, one wall and four feet away from me. Actually, he’s probably asleep by now…I hope so. It’s been a long day. 

We first attempted a romantic relationship, but being of the opposite sex, fairly attractive, and intoxicated with the abandon of youth, it was our only choice. We loved each other, passionately and wholly. I believe we still love each other. But, as we both hoped, said, and want, we love ourselves more. He loves himself more than he loves me, and I love myself more than I love him. And so for this reason, we end this chapter of our lives. Denver is an even newer start, it seems. 

Dumbledore said it best when explaining the capacity for power that words hold, but without the right “wizard” to weave the words, they fall flat. Actions are not to be overlooked. Actions tonight were good, and while words were clattered to the floor, they were not bad. Words can be used as weapons by the clumsiest swordsman, and neither of us are unskilled. Blood landed on my shirt but the stain in already fading. I am strong. So is he. And, we love each other. Emotional pain has never been a goal. 

We hugged a lot. I cried rivers to create a moat around myself. I made assertions that make me feel like a terrible person, but it feels worse to be the one ending things. Normally that’s me, and I know that is a pitiless position. I am credited the “permission” to be angry, wounded, and vengeful. It’s unjustified and I am opting out of that band-aid, thanks. Lord knows I have plenty of crutches already, lol. I’m also willing to bet that over the last year, there has been enough anger, pain, and cause for petty vendettas that I’d be just as screwed as he would be. And then that pesky love bit comes back around. Why would I do that to him? He wants to be happy, and this isn’t meeting that goal. It’s not meeting my ideal happiness either. He’s weak enough to give up now, or strong enough to see it and take action, depending on your extreme. In reality, it’s intended as a much more subtle shift towards the greater good. I can’t argue with that action. 

Love is more than dating. It’s more than sex-that’s for damn sure. I’ve always felt that love was more than marriage, so that isn’t new to me. Love is present with us…I think that’s just as true…

I’ve never been able to define “love”, but I do know what it the idea means. It’s another name to an idea, four letters than can barely encompass this foundation for progress. Love is what the world is based upon, and yet it is dangerous. Love is the only thing strong enough to cure the wounds it creates. Dating has ended. Romance, however odd and non-traditional it may have been, has ended. Love can’t just end-it’s not a light switch. Friendship has no reason to end, although it will evolve with this new environmental change. We all adapt to our world. Love can grow and change, and I hope it does. 

I am proud that he and I both stuck to our values, and that we have unquestionably grown together over the last year. Our key goal was that we put ourselves first, is still the root at our dynamic. He thinks he will be happier without our relationship as it has stood. I would be lying if I disagreed. I knew in New Orleans, and while I tried, hoped, and worked, I never thought it would change with a new zip code. 

I was that woman he loved for a minute. 🙂 I’m really ok with that. He was that fantasy man I uprooted my life for, and I don’t regret a moment. Now we’re wild and hurt, trying to remember our deeper reasons for friendship and lick our wounds. I imagine kittens that play too rough-they snarl, hiss and spit, bat and may even injure. They then start to lick their own wounds, and even help to repair their fellow kitten. Eventually they are piled together, keeping warm and dreaming up new adventures. 

It’s gonna be ok. It sucks right now, and I’m sad. I’m angry. I’m annoyingly premenstrual and crying so much I can’t breathe through my stupid nose. But I’m fine. I have everything a body needs, and then extras like American Horror Story, pumpkin chai beer, and long enough hair to keep my ears warm. While I can (and likely will) complain, it’s really a crime to do so.

Stay tuned for hope-I’m confident that it’ll be back right after these commercial messages. 

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