The Winter is Back

I feel bad I haven't written anything in quite some time. And now that I am it just seems like too much has happened for me to write about it.

I ended a seven year relationship this past summer. What can I say about that? When it was happening, when I finally made the decision to leave, there was this energy about me that was unusual. I felt moved to finally do something. I felt the slightest glimmer of hope that I had a future after all. That I could start over. That I could be my own person. That I could be...happy. This was of course accompanied by an enormous amount of anxiety and guilt and sadness. How could I leave after all this time? He was like an extension of myself. It took me so long to believe that he loved me. It was only in recent years that I truly did believe that his love for me was unconditional. But when I finally realized that it didn't matter.

I was in love with him once.

When I was packing up my life, I read back on cards and notes I wrote for him and realized I had forgotten how it used to feel. But those feelings went away, either chased out by the the chill in my heart left by My Monster D, or it was worn away by the tide of time and the mundanity of life. At 34 years old, I can't help but feel that my heart isn't capable of love anymore. It's been used too many times. I've been in love and out of love too many times. Maybe you only get so many tries before your turn is over.

Since I've moved out, the energy that made it possible to leave him has dissipated and along with it, hope. I feel trapped once again, but this time, I can't blame it on my relationship, I can only blame myself.

I'm the only one that's here.