count down to sorrow

today, i looked myself in the eye and asked "is this even worth it?"

should i keep holding my breath and wait for it all to drop? should i keep my mouth shut? because some good that seems to be doing.

eventually you have to realize that people don't talk to same way you do. they don't think, feel, cope, understand in the same depths. perhaps he meant well. and maybe he would return, somewhere farther down the line. but i couldn't hope forever, could i?

i couldn't keep convincing my body that it should wait for a promise that may never come. i needed to move on, to continue with life and know that for one single month i knew what happiness was. and that that was all about to end. i needed to inhale the pain sharply and know that exhaling may feel like daggers until i was myself again. alone again. disconnected from that part of the human experience

This Part was for Her

i wouldn't wait for him to come rescue me out of this life. i didn't need saving. i never had. i wasn't the damsel in distress type. if i was, he would have never wanted me so badly in the first place. i knew my place in this world, and i wasn't afraid. i don't really remember the last time i was afraid of anything that had to do with life. living i could do. alone, together, connected. i could do all of that.

my problem was convincing myself that i did need someone. that needing someone was a woman's job. it's ridiculous and untrue (i'm quite aware of that) but my independence seemed to be becoming more and more outlandish with each passing day. and i began to think that it was what was doing me in--- keeping me (dare i say...) single.

obviously, i talked myself out of that one.