Untitled

I swore to myself, when I started this blog, that this particular subject, at least in much detail, was off limits. After all, it is not sarcastic, pertinent to anyone but me, and entirely too much of my heart to share with a haphazard assortment of people who may stumble across these words. Tonight, I don’t care. I just want the illusion of someone listening, caring, making a difference—not that I don’t have a billion people in my life that do that (I have THE BEST friends). However, as I have witnessed so many of my peers in grad school assert their views over and over and blabber on and on, I have come to this generalization/fortune cookie statement: ‘Keep talking, no one will hear you.’ The people who speak incessantly are never heard. It is those who choose to speak on occasion and with purpose who demands attention and respect. Likewise, talk about heart ache endlessly, no one will hear the hurt any longer. Tonight, I don’t care. Maybe I will even delete this later, who knows?
I am lonely. I have been lonely many times in my life and childhood. However, this loneliness over the past two and a half months is different, and never ceasing. Before, I was lonely when I was alone and wanted companionship. Now, I am lonely for the specific, and simply companionship will not suffice. I do not just miss being in love or dating or sleeping with someone or being held. If that were the case, I could find someone to hold me, kiss me, say they love me. That is not what I am lonely for. Trying to fill the void in this way would increase the loneliness by shoving in my face the opposite of what I crave. I miss the person. I miss his laugh, his eyes, his voice. I miss his kisses, his hands, his smile. I miss his sarcasm, his intelligence, his compassion. I miss his mood swings, his insecurities, his cockiness. I miss our relationship, the way we interacted with each other, the love I knew from him. Even though it terrified me, I miss the realization of the possibility of a person I could spend my life with.
The loneliness has once again morphed into a new entity. Before it was like a dragon, ravaging my mind, thoughts, well-being. Now, it is a dull blade, barely moving, deeper, into my heart. I was watching tv the other night, not dwelling on things, not particularly sad or depressed in the moment, and I became aware that tears where streaming down my face. I was soaked. I didn’t even know I was crying. I am always crying, even when my face is not wet. Even when I am laughing, even when I feel happiness, even when I pretend I am ok. I am no longer crazy insane with panic and desperation. I just know who I have lost and that a part of me was lost as well.
I have always thought it was a fool who said, “It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.” Well, they were right, and I was the fool. I have hurt more than I have ever hurt, still do. I have cried more than I have ever cried, still do. I have tasted what I may never taste again. And, yet. . . I have experienced love that I never really thought existed. I have loved deeper and risked more than what I thought I was brave enough to love or risk. I have experienced living life with man who is amazing and inspires awe in me—even if that experience was fleeting and brief. It has changed my core and my future. For these things I am thankful and welcome the tears. Maybe I am still the fool.