I have a habit of beating myself. Self-flagellation. You think I would learn to stop this destructive behaviour, after a while.
… I’ve been told that it’s just the way life goes once the wildest river is now a trickle to the sea…
She bought his Burning Man ticket. For him, for her. Together. She saw him, so excited, in the flesh; he was there for his new job. She joined him for ten days, and will see him all the more since he works from home, instead of just evenings. She wears more jewellry and is undergoing a new look, a transformation. Based on him.
Only having this external information to go on, second and third hands, I cannot but help come to the unhappy conclusion that he is involved with her, happy, for the long haul. I can hope that it is simply novelty, but hope and reality never work together, do they?
Does it matter? I can hope, want, but even Jenna told me today, keep it a vague, distant hope. A very, very unlikely hope.
… And the love you hang your life upon will start to slowly crack…
He is gone. I have lost him. My mate, the completing half of me, the puzzle piece that joined mine. He fit, he enhanced. Through ignorance and stubborness I have lost him.
Instead of accepting this, and moving on, I dwell. I hope. I focus. I think about meeting for coffee, talking. I carry hope. I wonder why he hasn’t filed for divorce – certainly, with all his traveling, his finances are not hurting. It’s a measely $120, of which I said I would split the cost.
… One last time while she watches thru the door focusing on the guy that she used to ignore thinking he looks so beautiful…
Until I get those papers, I am going to wonder. I am going to hope that there is a chance, however small, and am going to want to act on it. And after, after. After I get the papers- it’s not something I want to contemplate. Not right now. Not today.
… I have heard about the lives of small swift birds they dazzle with their colour and their deftness thru the air just a simple glimpse will keep you standing there the legendary journies made on fragile hollow wings…