Monday, April 16, 2018

Aloneness

The abandoned speedway is covered in sticky grey mud, but the dogs, thrilled to be free, fly over it, and so I will consider the consequences later.

We roam the empty arena, ugly in its design, beautiful in its strange loneliness and its green muck after the rain and snow. 

Last year I was camping and hiking around this time, heartbroken, pretending not to be. Always broken hearted and pretending I'm not hurt. 

Spring is holding off for me, it wants me to be ready. I nearly am. I feel strong and capable today. I enjoy my time alone, I take pleasure in watching my strong happy dogs, and no part of me wishes you beside me. 

I pace the empty bleachers, my shoes caked in mud, and I think about how you would pretend not to be bothered by the mud, but you would be irritated, and your tenseness would wear into me, and I would try to comfort you and you would tell me I was being ridiculous to sense such a thing and I would be hurt and question myself. Always a cycle. A cycle that ended in me doubting myself. You planted the seeds so early. On purpose? What had you planned when you met the girl who didn't love?

It's a very realistic reminder. I remember you tearing your jacket, denting your leather shoe. How angry you are under the surface. 

I wonder if it's easier with her far away, hiding who you are. Or perhaps you're calm with her. But then I wonder why you stayed. 

And then I don't want to wonder about you anymore. I thought to perhaps repair something once important to me, to patch it up, but what will that bring me but more pain. I feel adventurous and bold, here in this forbidden empty place, and I do not want to spiral. 

I feel the loss of my broken phone again, and I wonder if the other one, the Good one, has tried to contact me. He'll be leaving soon. Perhaps he thinks I abandoned him, and our patchwork will be destroyed. That would make me unhappy. But, I am glad we skipped this part, the falling in love and worrying part before he goes away. He would have still chosen to go, and we would have been broken hearted. We were both cowards to not face it, but we learn as we grow. I have learned to guard my heart more carefully. Loving him would have been fun, but we both knew how it would end.

I catch sight of myself in the area windows, bright and reflective, and I look happier than I have for a long time, and maybe even beautiful. I have not felt very beautiful for a long time - men are always using it against me, chipping away at my spirit, grabbing at it and me, possessing, jeering. I am not allowed to admire myself. I am not allowed to exist unless I intend to belong to someone.

I smile at my reflection and take a photo, and I think I look beautiful. 

I sleep hard, despite the silence, despite two dogs pressed tightly into me, despite a slim cat on my neck and whiskers in my nose. I am coming back to myself, and so far, it seems to be sticking. 

The potential for success is close. The potential for love, or, at least, a good friend, is nearby. Lifelines. I will keep swimming toward them no matter how tired my limbs. I have all the means around me to live the life I have always wanted. It is strange, that he changed that vision - for what, a year and a half, off and on? A vision of perfection I honed for nearly 32 years and it was completely thrown aside. I am shocked at myself, but I am getting it back; I know what is right for me. 

I would have, had he let me, been right for him. But he was never right for me. 

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