There was a moment, as I was laying there next to him in bed, that I thought he might be mine forever.  And then he murmured the sleep-sodden words "I love you", drink still heavy on his breath, and I realized how, though I could move my hand but inches to touch him, he was lost to me forever.  

Now, years later, as I sit on a pew in church, surrounded by friends and familiar faces, that same feeling rushes back and brings tears to my eyes. The feeling of knowing his arms around me, of talking and discussing life and the world, the feeling of being home...and then the dawning realization that none of it was ever mine to keep. 

I've had many loves since then. Other men. Myself. But still, as I sit here,  the speakers saying the familiar messages, the hymns I've known since childhood...still, I find this place doesn't belong to me--these people.  Still, I have that deep unsettling reality that this, too, is temporary. Still I search so that I will no longer be alone.

What do you do when you find yourself desperate--for those loving arms, for that feeling of home, and for that place where you belong, are comfortable, where being is easy--but with nowhere to turn and no arms to hold you? Those who would, are wrong and false.  Those that you wish, won't or can't or shouldn't. 

So easily I fall into the arms of those who are willing.  But they don't know me. They don't understand this need to burn, to run, to fly.  Sympathy is not what is needed to sustain or fulfill. But my kindred spirits are destructive. They seek to run away, to escape with flight, to burn to ash. I wish to fly to see, to run to explore, to burn to enlighten. 

How long has it been since I've found one that understood--someone who feels that the distance I have placed is a challenge, not a demand. How long has it been since someone filled this void in my heart and hopes? Years, surely, since the song of my heart has been lightly played with masterful fingers of understanding and study--of genuine,  unselfish concern and love for me--the same love that I have for them.

That is the ghost of my heart and soul--the ghost that I live with daily.  The memory of a feeling I had once, which makes all else superficial in its poor attempt at comparison.

Forgive and Forget

It seems everywhere I go recently people are telling me that I need to forgive and forget.  They're not telling me to my face, of course.  To my face they're saying things like "You're handling this so much better than I could have!" and "I don't know how you do it...." But wherever I go, in movies, in relief society, in my conversations with people....I'm given this constant reminder that you really, truly do have to do that.  Cattiness won't get you very far...even if you do have a few really good zingers.

For those of you (those being the...er...one?  Two people who read this?) who don't know, I recently went through a spot of male difficulty (and woman difficulty, too....but definitely in a different way).  I won't get into the details, but let's just say that someone that I loved very very deeply and who told me on a regular basis that he loved me recently slept with (and then afterward started a relationship with) someone who I, unfortunately, can't escape from in my life right now while we were still dating...and they both lied about it and told me to "trust" them...and then, once they couldn't deny it any more told me in quite a few more words to get over it.

Not such a fun month, that one.....

And how did I handle it?  Hard to say.  Better than I could have, but not without blemish, as I'd like to tell myself.  So many times in my head I wanted to go all crazy psycho girl and slash both their vehicles up and maybe a few mattresses (the one that he was sleeping on with her happens to be one that I gave him, free of charge...just as a side note.  Oh...and the sheets, too....), maybe put a few bugs in bedrooms, things like that.   But I didn't.  I only yelled once, and I refrained from any specific name calling and focused instead on descriptions of actions....and in the end?  I was left knowing that I wasn't to blame for the situation but still hurt and wounded and liable to lash out like any other wounded animal would.

And I still find myself this way.  That's the hardest thing to acknowledge.

I find myself wanting to be mean and nasty to this person (whose relationship with my ex, by the way, ended rather quickly...turns out it wasn't the bargain he was hoping for...) and wanting to say snide things like "well maybe if you didn't this, then they wouldn't that."  But...what would that help, really?

Nothing.

And it sucks.

To prevent backlash, and to keep my hands in the still relatively-clean state that they are in now, I find myself alone a lot.  If there's a group situation and I know she's going to be there, I try to avoid it.  I don't want to risk saying something nasty and then embarrassing her and myself--she doesn't deserve that, and I don't want to be the girl who acts that way.

But is it fair that I feel jealous that she's already moving on from it?  She's perfectly fine with claiming everything that's male in sight as her game to flirt with.  She sees no problem in talking about MULTIPLE other guys to me already.  She has no problem with flirting and complaining about how guys just don't want to beeeeeee with herrrrrrrr.....And meanwhile I die a little more inside every time. I have thoughts that range from "wow...if I'm interested in the same guys that she is, what does that say about me??  And the guys we both apparently are attracted to??" And: "How is that even fair that she can move on, and I'm stuck, still broken and alone?"

And that's what I feel, mostly.  Alone. A little bit damaged, but mostly just alone. I know that we all like to scoff at the saying of "nice guys finish last"....but is it really true?  Obviously I can go to bed knowing that, morally and ethically I'm clear...but what if my refusal to bow down to that level of stupidity doesn't in fact make me a better role model to others and in fact makes me the chump who sits on the side lines.  Forgettable.

Forgiving and forgetting.  Forgiving is easy....although as I feel these thoughts of wanting to put her down, I realize just how far I have to go until I have let myself completely forgive...but forget?  That's the hard one.

Maybe it should be the other way around.  Maybe the only way to truly forgive someone is to forget about what they've done.  Forget so that you can truly forgive. Otherwise, if you don't forget it...if you choose to remember it when they are near or when something similar happens, you'll never be truly able to get over it.

Heaven knows I am ready to move on.

Just Friends

One of the hardest things about a breakup is the aftermath.  After the crying and the tears and the mourning is over, when reality has sunk deep into your soul that this actually, really, truly is how things are one must still wake up every morning with one truth:  He's still out there.  The awful thing about a break up is that, even though you're no longer "together" you're still in each other's lives.  There's the separation of the belongings "Do you want these plates?  Or should I keep them?"  There's the forced conversations and texts and questions from casual acquaintances who haven't yet heard asking the inevitable "So!  How are you and your man doing these days??"  Not to mention the innumerable texts, tweets and Facebook updates all reminding you that he is still out there and he is moving on with his life as happy as can be.

And then there's the other thing.  There's the staying friends thing.

I'm not going to lie, I hate staying friends with an ex after we break up.  I would rather he just fall off the face of the earth and I never have to see, think of or hear from the guy again.  Usually, though, I'm the one doing the breaking, so it's an easy desire to have.  In this case, though, I'm the one who got broken.  In this case, he's the one who suggested we still be friends.  In this case, I'm just enough in love with him still to be willing to go for it.

Let me tell you this little secret, dear darling reader--being friends freaking sucks.  There's no way around it, really.  For all the above mentioned reasons, it's hard to still have someone who you're crazy about close in your life and not be a major part of theirs.  It's hard to see the updates on Facebook of flirtatious or fun things happening in that person's life.  It's hard to know that you're only allowed to see that person with prior planning and scheduling so that you won't overlap with the other girls/friends he has around.  Also, it sucks to know that you're no longer the cause of that person's happiness.

They say if you love someone then you let them go.  Well I say that's bull.  What should you do if you love someone?  You fight for them.  You hold them close.  You shield them.  You do whatever you can to make them happy.  But you don't, under any circumstances, let that person go out of your life.

And so what is my elucidation of the day?  Part of me, the part that's feeling a little bitter and neglected wants to say the lesson is to not love or to not stay friends with those who you used to love.  But no.  That's not realistic. And anyone with a dreamer's heart will know that the only true happiness for a romantic is in that love, and is in that hope, and is in that dream that some day things will be better.  And so the lesson is instead, despite the heartbreak and the hurt, the disappointment and the feelings of inadequacy and emptiness, to love, to fight, to stand strong in your love. Even if the person you think should love you back--the person you're fighting for--doesn't and won't ever return those feelings, some day, someone will deserve that kind of fierceness.  Some day, someone will love you back just as strong.

You can't keep your grasp tight if you aren't willing to exercise it.  And so I flex my love, even though it hurts.  Even though, like a muscle tearing, I feel sore for days after.  I flex because I know, some day, that love muscle will build up and I'll be stronger.  Some day, that'll be enough.