To realize after a relationship, that really, other people don’t matter. You’re still you. Before and after, you’re still you. Perhaps, often, a little worse for wear. But not another person.
This will hurt, a little. This will calm, a little. Mostly, you will realize that perhaps the only true believers in love, are the ones who’ve never loved before. You can’t believe the myth having been through the reality.
I don’t want to just be loved. I want to be adored. I want to be thought of as breathtaking and enamoring. I want the person I am with to light up with joy when they see me; to be both their lover and friend. I want there to be inside jokes and darling secrets. I want there to be arguments that strengthen our resolve to have things work. I want to be able to curl around and be curled within that kind of love.
Imperfect. Human. Actual and real in a way that his never was.
I don’t want to “see” someone or be with someone who loves another person (or worse, is in love with another person). I don’t want to be in such a situation with someone who is still hung up on an ex. I don’t want to be with someone to whom I am disposable.
I don’t want to have to wait for you. I don’t want to have to feel guilty for wanting a job that gives me normal hours. I don’t want to wait to start my life.
These three things… I don’t want to have to wait for you. To get fully over your ex, to know if you are staying in the country. I don’t want to feel guilty for interviewing for this other job that would give me normal day hours (no more 3:30 am wake-ups or shifts until 2 a.m.). I don’t want to have to sit around for three to six months, just working, not volunteering, not going back to dance.
I have waited for four years. I spent four months in heartache and wallow. I want my life back.
I move into my new place on the 8th. I interview for the job I hope to get, tomorrow. I already have three non-profits I want to look into volunteering with.
People keep telling me to have patience, and in some instances they are right. I need to breathe a little. No use jumping into a life I have yet to build. New city, new people, new experiences all around. I need to breathe a little. But also, I don’t want to go more slowly than is comfortable for me.
I am enjoying going slowly (somewhat slowly) with you. I am enjoying the lack of labels, not having to tell friends about you (family wouldn’t know, but they’ve figured it out), and knowing that if (I keep saying when) you leave the country with that position I will not feel loss the same as I did with him before you. But because of all of the aforementioned things (jobs and life and volunteering and dance and settling into PDX) I do not want to wait for you. I am finding my way back to exuberance and light. I am learning to stretch again, to expand out into my life and make it full simply with myself. I need to not be waiting on someone I do not have faith will be able to love me, let alone love me as I need to be loved.
Reading old poems, written when I was with him, when I loved him… Where is that feeling now? The exuberance, the exhilaration? How, so quickly, so soon, have I gone from loving him to love no one like that? How do I come back from this place where I feel as though I gave him the love and shivers and excitement I had, and have now to deal with the fact of feeling (being?) emptied.
Where did those feelings go? Into the ether I suppose. Into the place where all other unwanted and unused feelings must go, to stay and stir. Into the past.
But dear lord… reading that poem and feeling no notion of nostalgia or desire anymore. Am I moved on from that love? How does one even move on from love? How is there just blankness now, I do not understand.
While I was reading a fairly scientific magazine (print only, lots of footnotes, no colour) on the bus, a middle aged man sits next to me and tells me I “shouldn’t trouble (my) pretty little mind with such complicated things”. I said sweetly that it wasn’t complicated at all and that in fact most…
I really am sick of the glare I receive when I refuse to play dumb, when I refuse to stay quiet, and when I refuse to be subservient because of my sex and gender.
“We mistake sex for romance. Guys are taught that pushing a girl up against a wall is romance. Sex is easy; you can do it with anyone, yourself, with batteries. Romance is when someone you like walks into a room and they take your breath away. Romance is when two people are dancing and they fit together perfectly. Romance is when two people are walking next to each other and all of a sudden they find themselves holding hands, and they don’t know how that happened.”—
My father always tells me, “Fire [passion] can last two years tops. But comfort, that can last a lifetime. If you want someone to be in your life for a long time, find people who bring you comfort, who you feel comfortable with.”
I want the guy who I want to just sit next to and watch a show with, or take a walk with, or have a conversation with. I want a guy who calms me down, and knows my heart. I’ve done the super intense, short-lived relationship. I want the friendship that happens to also encompass romantic love.
“I like to see people reunited, I like to see people run to each other, I like the kissing and the crying, I like the impatience, the stories that the mouth can’t tell fast enough, the ears that aren’t big enough, the eyes that can’t take in all of the change, I like the hugging, the bringing together, the end of missing someone.”
“There comes a point when you either embrace who and what you are, or condemn yourself to be miserable all your days. There will always be people in your life who will try to make you miserable; don’t help them by doing the job yourself.”—Laurell K. Hamilton (via internal-acceptance-movement)