July 6, 2012 § Leave a comment
I’m afraid to get closer than a flirt, but the prospect excites me. At least I can imagine it would. I want it but have no gauge of my readiness for it. Can I help but be shy about it? Can I help but try again? I will allow myself the reticence and the hope alike and vibrate to the midline–me natural. I want to not want so much as I’ve been asking for–rather, I just don’t want to ask for it (or for anything). When I can give is when I can receive. How do I do that? I want to believe that I’ve grown from all this, but I’m afraid to test it. Time will ace it–that’s me saying it, and even believing it, but compliance is in the hands of my patience, whose grasp is indifferent.
February 17, 2012 § Leave a comment
Thinking about Herself, writing about all of it–maybe that means I’m not over her. Whether I agree or not, I won’t argue. If I’m not entirely dispassionate, I’ve moved a considerable emotional distance from her. I’m as much a journalist about it now as any journalist is about anything–opinionated but at least superficially bound to fairness. I know the source material by heart, but the heart is nearly done with it. The head is now sifting out the wild hopes and irrational actions. What’s left is lessons learned. I want to acknowledge them, affirm the growth, deny despair, maybe apologize a few more times. It’s history. I don’t want it to repeat. Not all of it. Love happens. Let it. Just don’t let it go it alone. Advice from a journalist: What does he know?
February 10, 2012 § Leave a comment
There was much doubt. Little of it was mine. I knew I would write my way out of this. The concern was touching, but I was never going to talk to a professional about it. Only friends would do. I told Herself once that the blog was my best friend. It was a moment of glib pathos, but it was not far off the mark. Mine was the only advice or judgement I could accept in good conscience, too. I would still rather have talked to someone, but I didn’t know who to trust. So I trusted the world wide web to find me someone. I pled my case. I talked it out. I talked to one too many persons. Doesn’t matter. One thing I trusted was that I was doing the right thing. I still do trust that, but for different reasons. Then, it was the right to express myself. Now, it’s gratitude for the experience, the opportunity to grow. I am emotionally intact, if not satisfied. I’m sure that’s normal.