well. that didn’t last as long or hurt as much as it used to.
i spent most of the day today rolling around in various stages of get over it-ness.
the sense of relief he had was palpable… and the quiet from the west coast is equally so. i find myself torn between being hurt and being angry. in the end, i decide to be neither.
some day i will meet someone who is willing to embrace everything i am. maybe not this life, but some day. i suppose perspective is what counts.
doesn’t do a lot for how i feel at times, but then, what does?
i feel wistful. you know that feeling… like ‘here comes the rain’. hard to describe.
i sit here and think about all the goodbyes i’ve given, received, slung, had flung at me, etc…. there’s a long list of people i still think of, care for, and wish it could be different with… teresa, denise, george, derek, diane, stony, tim, james, rhonda, heath.
i was explaining to the master sergeant the other night that just about anything written here that speaks of loss, pain, hurt, missing, etc. is somewhat interchangeable. you could put any of those names above into the frame and it would read precisely the same.
i don’t suppose any of them would get that part, though. well. maybe two or three of them. the rest would just assume it was directed ‘at’ them or ‘about them’… so sure they know and so unknowing. that’s the real hurt, of course. it’s hard to be convicted for things that aren’t here. much harder than for things that are.
if there’s any comfort in it, it’s knowing that time really does soothe it all. i can remember when i was as conflicted and torn about all of those names as i still am about heath.
life as a metronome is not fun. but without the aid of a genuine closure, there’s not much to do but thrash it out by myself, is there?
bleh.
that’s my problem, of course. i never really get around to looking for closure. i remember. i keep remembering. i make a point of remembering. i hope. i remain.
i suppose that’s a lot like self-flagellation. only i’m not really beating myself. except with hope.
i’ve tried to define and describe why. i don’t think it’s possible beyond saying, ‘yes, i really do continue to believe it can be reconciled.’ and ‘no, i am never willing or ready to give up on these others.’
and then, to whisper softly, to myself, as i rock and the tears come, ‘i wish they had as much faith in me.’
time for bed, i think.