i am lightly surprised to find i have no need to ‘finish’ this list. it is finished. the last three items are little more than redundancy.
i made myself go back and re-read that last email. the things that leap out at me in this moment’s reading were not seen in the initial reading. the excuses. the pre-emptive defense. the blaming. the usual, really.
i shake my head at the ‘someday’ he included. as well at the timeline. to the last, unable.
the effort to use this to aid myself has been half-effective. there is much learning in it, and it has staunched most of the bleeding. what remains is that which is not so much specific to him as general to me. this, a comfort.
i think i am finally ready to let it rest. i laugh at myself. how many times have i said this in hope only to wind up here at some late hour, hashing it out all over again?
but there is a difference in this moment. perhaps just another increment along a longer line, but at least i can feel the differences and it is not that manner of telling yourself something until you can make it real.
i spent far too long waiting and hoping for him to magically become what he said he was.
i spent far too long ignoring things i knew in experience with him in the name of that hope.
this is me, struggling to forgive myself so i can let the last of it go. what remains is not to do with him, but with forgiving myself for crimes against myself.
it is the hardest part. no sense denying it.
the argument inside my head is vicious.
the twins of hope and idealism raise tear-stained faces, but i am sick of their niavete and whatever words they murmur i can no longer hear.
the voice of the projector is muted, but the laughter rings bitter and with that cynical, jaded knowing that i have long despised.
little buddha girl is silent, but her face is solemn for the fullness of knowing and the acceptance of what is.
the little girl isn’t crying anymore. she hiccups from her corner and doesn’t bother to repeat the ‘i told you so’, thankfully.
the gatekeeper makes careful notes and pretends to be too pre-occupied to pay attention, but i notice the doors are padlocked, so she’s obviously keeping things in order.
it’s like one of those climactic meetings, you know, a la columbo, where the mystery is unveiled and everyone gets their reaction, but it doesn’t really matter, because the question mark has been answered and there’s nothing left to do but walk the criminal off to judgment in cuffs.
you get to tell yourself it all ended just the way it was supposed to end, all things in their right place.
i chuckle. guess that makes me columbo. sadly, i’ve never been that smart.
i take a moment to consider who the criminal is in this scenario. that would be that of me that i haven’t forgiven yet, i think.
i’m working on it.