No. 21
YOUR loss
THE ONLY WAY TO LET SOMETHING PASS IS TO LET IT PASS…
So I’m letting it pass.
Trying to.
Trying to honor the well of water that feels like my heart. Deep. Unreachable. Easily moved. Possibly strong. Possibly weak.
It’s easy to forget. It’s harder to remember. This means I’m doing hard work. I’m remembering everything.
And In my remembering, I come to find that I have never missed something while also being unable to identify what about it I miss. It was so long ago.
I don’t know if any of it was real. Does it matter? It’s psychotic that whatever happened or didn’t happen… whatever wasn’t said or was… despite how much time has gone by or how many regrets linger, what never changes is the love.
Almost supernatural. Therefore, unfathomable.
So why do I insist on thinking my way towards an answer? Why can’t I stop writing about it? Maybe I will when something bigger or worse happens to me. But nothing could ever be worse than someone leaving.
How could I forgive anyone for not wanting me? I don’t know, but I must. And in some way, I must forgive myself for not wanting me either. That is the next, first, last, and only thing to do. To want and need myself as much as I want and need someone else to. I am trying. Trying so hard that I’m tired. I feel like it’s not the solution because it’s also the problem.
Perhaps I’ll stop writing about it when I have run out of things to say. When I have no more wonder or curiosity left and all I can feel is thankfulness. When I can accept that some things aren’t meant to reach their full potential because it does not exist.
We continuously build on what doesn’t have a foundation and that is why we can’t build structures strong enough to feel safe. The love I dream of is I don’t know. Do you know? Where does it come from? It couldn’t be me. That doesn’t feel like enough. Why does the most dependable and unfailing source of love that a person could cultivate on their own not feel like it’s enough?
Maybe it’s not love at all that I’m in search of. Maybe at this point in my life, love has been sadly confused for something that has nothing to do with me and another person. You all have made it impossible to not do that. Because I love you. All of you — the names and faces I see when I think of loss. How could I not think of love too? My cells have arranged themselves to make the most space for it. It’s the most beautiful part of the experience we’re having in these containers called bodies.
There are images — daydreams that loop in my head without me having to press play and I’m unable able to press pause. The things and places that never were and will never be. I can’t say your name because maybe you’re reading this. I miss you, my friend. It’s been a long long time and I never thought you wouldn’t be here. Please come back soon. When you’re feeling okay and doing better and I will try to be better too.
It hurts. It will always. Even when it doesn’t. Yes, a part of me will always hurt for this.
