4:36 AM

Love. Indigo. Or Nothing.

Mood: Relieved to be able to write
Music: The Consequences of 
Falling - k.d. lang
Date: Wednesday, September, 1st, 2010

There are few moments in life you don't want to experience more than once, and one of those moments is gathering all the items another person has left in your space, and waiting for them to be picked up, or delivering them yourself. You cannot ignore the cracking of your façade, when you're touching items that do not belong to you, to return to their owner. You can pretend a break up doesn't bother you until that moment when you're placing memories into a box marked "return to sender".
And since I can no longer ignore this moment I've been putting off, I am going to tell you how I've been spending my time since June14th, 2010.

First I held a pity party for myself over the bad news I received about my health, which was easy since that bit of news shook me to my core, unearthing yearnings that I did not know I even possessed. I rebounded for a day or two, and sought to make the best of a bad situation. Then I received an invite for a baby shower, so I held another pity party, and locked myself away from the world - not even pausing to let my friends in on the depths of my sadness. I find I deal with things easier, when I have time to dwell on it, process my thoughts and decide how to deal with the pain. I know it bothers others, but I'm just one of those people, who doesn't want to open up and talk about these things until I'm ready. It's my nature.
Then I dove head first into work, and since I had a heavy work load - it was easy. Of course I threw in some time dedicated to the class I was taking at the time, and then when I had a grand mal overreaction in class...well that wasn't pretty. But I assure you that the pervert had it coming, and if you want to see the dirty photos and hear the creepy voice note he sent me - I'm willing to share so you can make some god awfully inappropriate comment about how I had it coming for looking so sexy. I rather miss your god awfully inappropriate comments, even if I didn't show it, I always found them amusing.

Then I threw myself into some more work, and completed a project that got me many kudos, you would have liked it due to the Japanese influence of the work. And to be truly pathetic, I went on a quest to put a little piece of you in my work. I found out that the Japanese alphabet doesn't have a literal letter for the first letter of your name, so instead I worked in the character "ai" which means "love, indigo, or nothing", because it felt like a fitting runner-up to what I wanted.
When the work got tired, I planned my friend's party, which I of course did not attend but got a nice thank you for helping out with. Then I did some more work.
And that my dear...was just July.

Some where around the end of July, I decided to come out of my self-imposed exile...and that attempt was short lived. For if I'm honest with myself, I didn't truly come out of my shell until August. However, I am glad to report that between mid-June and the end of August I completed 18 books, and started another 3, all in an attempt to think of anything but you. 18 books in 12 weeks is more books than I've read in the past 5 years...combined. To attempt to get over you, I read, I worked, I caught up on seasons worth of shows...and none of it worked because in the quiet moments that fill late nights and early mornings...in the moments inhabited by insomnia - I couldn't help but think of you.

Yet, I did not shed a tear until the moment I filled that box with the remnants of you. I never knew that handling the last 3 books of the Harry Potter series would have such an effect on me. But it wasn't the books. It was the memories of reading out loud while you cuddled next to me, thoughts of me playing in your hair, sitting and waiting patiently while you worked, thinking of all the things said, all the things unsaid and all the moments only thought but never to be acted out.
If I'm honest with myself, the finality of that moment was like the flood gates breaking on an overflowing dam. I haven't been the same since that night, and I might never be the same again, and only now after handling your things that were gathering dust on my shelf...can I feel some sense of...gravity.

Gravity, only because I've finally hit earth after floating in the stratosphere trying to avoid this pain. I've made my bed, and I am content to lie in it, whether it kills me or not. Call it stupidity. Call it angst. Call it pride. Whatever you call it, it won't keep me warm at night. But like all the other muses I've had, something tells me I am going to get great material out of my unresolved feelings towards you.

Love more than you know,

Photo Credit: Almost Empty; Tuesday, August, 31st, 2010


Jaaye said...

OK, so you know I love you lots right dearie.. and I won't pretend to understand your pain. But I can understand the kind of love where even tho you've moved on, a distant memory, a faint scent, a photograph, a song, a word.. all puts prinpricks into that wall you've built up to protect that lil part of your heart ;-)

The Stranger said...

"I find I deal with things easier, when I have time to dwell on it, process my thoughts and decide how to deal with the pain. I know it bothers others, but I'm just one of those people, who doesn't want to open up and talk about these things until I'm ready. It's my nature."