That letter I wrote last weekend to youknowwho was a long time coming…
It took a few life-altering conversations with two drunk boys, an emailed short story, and an outside conversation with the someone who makes me feel vulnerable.
I’m still not sure if I should kick one of those people in the shins or not. That smile I get greeted with when I see them always tempers the urge to shin-kick, so I guess I’ll never kick them. But I am annoyed. Maybe. Not really. I don’t know.
It really does feel like a weight was taken off of my shoulders. That much is fact.
I’m sure that now that the weight of wanting to reach out to him is gone, it will be replaced by the painful reminder that I opened this wound. Again.
That I can’t deal with his baggage. Again.
I don’t know how to find the strength to do this, but I will find it.
I’m so good at protecting myself, shoving people out of my life, locking the door behind them and letting them back in on my terms.
Putting myself out there, again, and allowing him unlimited access to me, again, is fucking scary.
There is no halfway - it really is all or nothing - and that terrifies me more than I can ever put into words.
I can tell you, these are NOT my terms.
My brain has been giving me signs for a long time that I need to get over this, over HIM, but at the same time, the universe and, more importantly, my heart, are giving me a completely different set of signs…
I think I need to get to Albany, find me a $1 PBR special somewhere, and let the two drunk boys tell me how to live my life a third time.
They’re a lot smarter than I am.