The Death of Love

One year, 5 and a half months… gone in approximately 3 and a half minutes. 

As the talented Florence Welch sings, “Regrets collect like old friends”.  And it’s hit-the-nail-on-the-head correct.  My rocky relationship ended last night, and I saying I feel numb is a good adjective to use.  It’s funny how when you’re still together, you can think of all the reasons why you’d be better off apart, but when it’s done and “us” is soon to be a memory, your mind begins playing tricks on you – attempting to convince you of why you need that person, why you need that relationship.  Saying this is the first time my evil man on my shoulder appeared would be blatantly lying.  So this time, I NEED to ignore him.

When the person you so quickly lost only a mere couple of hours earlier is laying next to you in bed, not because you’ve just had “ex sex” but because you have no other bed, and you’re basically all alone in this province with no one close enough emotionally to call and ask for a bed.  It’s hard. So hard not to reach out and touch them, to simply put your arm around them, and to cuddle into them.  Damn it’s hard. 

The way I see it, I can allow those regrets I quoted earlier to eat away at me.  To remind me of all that I’ve screwed up this past Summer/Fall.  Or I can tally them as notches on my ‘life experiences’ bedpost and keep them as reminders of how I’ve lived.  How I’ve loved.  And how I’ve lost.  I’ll remember these mistakes, not as mistakes, but as lessons.  I’ve yet again taught myself how to live in the moment, and how to not live in the moment – because rash, quick decisions can create overwhelmingly wrong choices. 

I look forward to my life, and my next adventure.  And I will promise to never forget my past.

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