How strange, that humans can feel such immense emotional pain & still make similar mistakes all over again.
There was a time when a woman made me happy, and there were few before her who had the same effect… with similar statistics.
20 years old… the age of every girl I ever loved has moved away from me, and gone on to live her life without me.
As of right now, in this moment, I feel the loss of my mate from a few months ago. She has since found a new love not 3 days after she told me she didn’t want to be romantically involved with me any longer. She is young, and she is happy now with the man that she found that weekend on her Collegiate Surf Club Adventure. Good for her. I truly want her to be happy.
She’s a good girl, yet it’s not that I miss her… as much as I miss just having someone keep me that close to their heart, and having someone who I have that close to mine.
I’m feeling the emptiness…
I’m a few years older now… but perhaps an entire decade worth of wisdom has been acquired in that time span. I have learned myself to the point that I know what to expect when I go through such a loss. Typically I end things in a bitter, angry rage, and attempt to move on with my life in a hurry.
But after about a month of lying to myself, telling myself that I’m over her, and I can move on anytime I feel like it…
I’m forced to deal with my emotional delayed reaction is such a way that cripples me from living life to the full potential that I know I am capable of.
The way things ended was slightly different this time, thankfully, but…
The same rules apply.
I lack the ability to cast my heart out to someone worthy of it after enduring the loss of real true love. I just don’t have the ability… I’ve come in contact with plenty who are worthy of my affection since my last romance end, but I’m all fucked up… I just can’t be the man I want to be to someone that I feel is worth dedicating heart too right now… and that’s not fair to anybody. Not to me, and certainly not to her.
The events that occurred throughout the course of my dead romance, the connection that I felt with her… the way I couldn’t sleep the night she was drunk and puking her guts out, yet I had no idea where she was or what she was doing… The fear for her safety that overwhelmed me… yet I remained stubborn and hardened by her desires to distance herself from me at that point in our relationship. I don’t want to be overbearing, or weak… but that is my first instinct,
The way I could feel her thoughts of me… the way little things would happen that would remind me of her when she wasn’t around. Something someone would say, or a phrase that we both heard together… perhaps a mention of a song or a movie that we had enjoyed together… the timing of it all… The way she always came to my mind at the exact moment that an event would occur to remind me of her…
Perhaps the freakiest of all, the way the stuck on Wall Folder Holder she bought for me came off my wall… that same night she was on the beach with another man. I have to assume one of my cats must have climbed up there and the weight was just enough to pop off the top holder, and the falling cat took down the other two upon descent… but I’ll never really know.
I realize how ridiculous it sounds… I do.
But these little things that happen in life are either sheer coincidence, or, what I believe, messages from something bigger than us all. It’s up to us to figure out what to do with them.
It’s funny how much of the bad stuff we tend to remember, and the good we typically forget.
I must be growing up… because this time, things are a bit different.
I’ll always smile when I think about my 26th Birthday Present, and the pictures that I got when I was in “Midwest” for Christmas that year while I was away. I’ll always be reminded of us when The Tampa plays the New Orleans… and every time I think about the ball dropping on New Years, I’ll remember where I was and what I was doing.
I’ll remember the time she drove all over 2 counties when I had one of the WORST days of my life just to help me get my cell phone back. I’ll remember her Mom introducing me as “her boyfriend” even in the rockiest of times of our romance. I’ll remember taking her on deliveries with me and how much better she would make my long… LONG days working all those hours… I’ll remember the way she would look at me when I took my shirt off, and the way she would clutch onto me during her moments of ecstasy… I’ll remember all those Iced Quad Venti Caramel Machiattos that she fed me and the ones that we shared… I’ll always remember her meeting me at Evo’s and how she liked it when I ordered her food and opened doors for her. I’ll always remember the first time I bought her flowers… and what I went through to get them that night… because she doesn’t like Roses…
It’s funny how much of these things are seemingly forgotten in the end. Of all the times we felt connected with each other, yet one of the last thing she said to me was “You don’t know the first thing about me.”
Yea… I do. But she is not who I thought she was. And I don’t know the “real” her well enough to be in her life, just what I learned from loving her and listening to what I was capable of.
How many times had I told her that I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world?… when I was in love with her… hell even when I wasn’t… I thought she was the whip. No girl could have taken my attention like she did. When I’m in love, that is just how I am. I see more than just skin and bones… but I have to admit that I was taken by her the instant my gaze fell upon her that first time as she sat in the floor.
Somehow… I just knew.
But in a fit of anger, she wrote of how I used to rag on her for not working out. Yea… I said some hurtful shit in one of my older blogs she found when she was scouring my computer for some reason not to trust me… that night was a complete nightmare for me… and I was deeply hurt by the things that she said, the way she acted, and the complete lack of respect for me and all that was my Being. I write as passionately as I love… and in the moments of my accounts of the events that occurred I said she was out of shape. I knew that was a hurtful thing to say… It was my instinct to retaliate, to hurt someone who has hurt me. I’m working on that… it’s not typical behavior on my part, but sometimes I fail to be the bigger person. She is still hurt by what I wrote… but I’m not hurt by the things that happened that night anymore.
Because I forgive her.
For all of it.
I’ll never forget the good times, and the good things.
This is only one of many stories that I could speak to describe the awe and confusion that I’ve felt many times before when my heart has been broken after I felt the Joy of Love.
Yet the best part is…
We all fill the pages of our book of life
I’ll get to do it all over again.