Oh Usher. You saved me momentarily last night when you poured out those lyrics for Let it Burn. (And thank you for not singing Moving Mountains, I don't need to cry like that.) You made me feel better right after that stranger told me (not asked) that I had the face of someone with a broken heart. God, am I that transparent? Well, who's kidding who? I do have a broken heart. There! I admitted it. He is gone. And by him, I mean Tyler. And unfortunately, with Tyler's move came my broken heart. (Is it fitting I finally write his name in this blog today, the technical "anniversary" of ours?)
I was sick today. There's another thing I will admit. It's not because of the bottle of white wine from last night. It's not because of the latest shooting and murder of yet another teenager in my neighborhood (this time at 2pm in the afternoon yesterday.) I have the chills, I have knots in my stomach and I can barely eat. Fuck. The break-up diet without a breakup.
I have that feeling of loss, like what comes with a break-up. My very good "boy friend" moved across Canada to Whistler. Not the furthest location, I realize, but far enough where it's doubtful I will see him for months. (And no, no plan was ever arranged for me to visit...hmm...and I said very good "boy friend"?) He decided a change of scenery in his life was needed and he simply moved. Okay, there is a part of me that is envious of that. And hurt. His life is his alone, but in the selfish way of thinking that comes with something that feels like a break-up, I'm thinking of how his move effects me. I know...I know.....
My cousin, all the way in Germany, has granted me a lot of clarity with kind and wise words of her own via e-mail. (Funny how good writing runs in my family.) Some things I already know. It hurts to lose a very good friend in the midst of having gotten so much closer to the point a real partnership had formed. My sister commended me for investing in something with someone else and trusting someone again. By someone she means a man, and yes, yes I did.
Well, we all know feeling like this makes for a better writer. I'm writing. One of the only things I want to do right now. The memories are flooding me to the point of tears. Why does my memory decide to kick into overdrive now?
Maybe I will get back to writing my book and add a happier ending.
Excellent.
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