4-14

It was a hail Mary, but I somehow pressed reset.

A reminder, I suppose. The weather has changed, the air smells like dirt and rain, and it makes me think of happier times. I get caught up in nostalgia. I wonder how, though things have changed, I can tap into a few moments when I was happiest. Maybe find the shadow now, find the reality, the echo, but maybe there's still something there I can hold onto.

But the smells play a game, causing me to forget. Brief happiness and such a spiral afterwards.

I pick my mind apart, trying to find the reasoning behind, but there is none. It felt right so I did it. I felt bad and I wanted to find a way to feel good.

Somehow, I feel good.

Logic wars with emotion but for once emotion has cooled slightly.

It never mattered why, it doesn't matter what he tells himself to excuse it. I can never break into his skull and show him, make him feel, what he put me through.

That is who he is. I am ashamed I loved him. But I did.

I will be the mad love that was cruel to him, to all his tales. It doesn't matter. Those who know me know the truth. Including some of those closest to him. I still wonder, does he know that they wanted to keep me? Maybe I was wrong to let them go, let my depression cloud me. Maybe I should have waited until I felt good again. I would so prefer to stay with the people who want to keep me.

The clouds are parting though it's cold and damp outside, and I see a glimpse of something brighter. I see hope and opportunity. I see my hard work falling into place, so fast I can't even keep up with it, and I wonder why I still lay awake long into the night and pick over what went wrong.

Nothing went wrong. He is wrong. He is a sick individual I cannot cure. He can be her problem. He loves her, that's sure, but when it hurts me, I remember him - door open. So you're coming over.

Love does not mean he will be faithful. I have lost nothing. His love is worth so, so little.

I wonder how long this relief will last. It comes and goes so often. I have mourned and struggled for so long, but I have to be gentle on myself. Love, for me, is different, I think. I must handle things differently than others, I must be gentle on them as well. I cannot put it through my lens.

Gentle is not what I am best at.

I hit the worst this week. The worst came at me, it crushed me, and I realized how little control I have over life. I waited to be swept up and blamed and destroyed.

But I was not. I was protected, and trusted, and treated gently. I was given hugs and drinks and told it's not, not, not, your fault. You did all you could. You did it all right.

I am always doing all I can and yet the worst can still happen.

That is life. I did all I could with him and still the worst happened. That does not mean it was my fault. That does not mean I could have given more.

I am glowing from this protection. I have protected myself for so long, I am not used to running for safety. I am not used to being cared for in this way, and it is changing my perspective.

Life is terrifying and unpredictable. Things happen.

We make mistakes but all we can do is our best.