A Strange Sadness

After a restless night, the morning renews and I find a sadness striking me; a want perhaps, a yearning; a need for something new and changing. Rather inexplicable to be struck with such a strange sadness. My feet are in the mud and perhaps it is fleeting or the last of my hope being expelled through my breath, but the the sadness was palpable - one thousand invisible knives to the gut.

Never in my life have I ever wanted to simply erase a person or a moment in time. I find lessons in everything; reflection. I find comfort in these lessons – and growth. There has been no lesson of the last four months, aside from awakening a nagging need for another person that sat dormant for quite some time. I find myself for the first time in nearly a decade thinking I might be done being alone again.

I wish I didn’t think that. Five months ago I wanted nothing more than to be by myself, and then a little windstorm with glasses popped up and changed everything. I was scared and nervous and spent a lot of time wanting to run away then convincing myself that I shouldn’t be afraid; to tear down the walls and let someone in. Then I convinced him of his youth and need for time and space. Now I sit, with my heart awakened again to the possibilities of love and partnership(s) and loneliness.

There is a vast difference, I find, in loneliness and being alone. Perchance I jinxed myself or maybe it’s just one of those days. But rarely do I find myself without a person to talk to or something to do - and, perhaps, it is just the day I’m in and the toss-and-turned lack of sleep in last night’s slumber that has manifested in the want of another and feeling that, without it, I’m somewhat empty - but this morning I woke up feeling very much alone.

An alone that five months ago I welcomed; I thrived in. I had myself and who else did I need? I’m not sure what’s changed; a new spring in the air? I’m so mad at this person for pursuing me; for reviving a heart that sat happily alone and setting it to their beat, then leaving it bleeding out. I’m so pissed off that I was good before and now I often think about being without; and without closure. My hope is lost in a field of uncertainty and immeasurably hurt feelings. I feel I have been lied to and betrayed – and not just by this one person – but by the universe. When it is my turn?

I fix so many men. I send them off better people. I know this because they return to tell me – and thank me. They find love and, in turn, employ what my time with them had taught them. And here I am, broken again – now wanting the invisible – in the path of another girls’ blind and fury, where she broke him, I tape him back together and someone else benefits. At a certain point, my charity runs out and it just begins to sting like an ocean of bees. Where is the one that was fixed just for me?

It’s getting old. In the longest month of my life, I can’t stand it. I want my mind back. I wish I could wipe him of my memory. I don’t understand why this all still troubles me – and why, with all the bruises, my soul was awakened and sits, still, waiting for the next. There is no resolve, I know, but if time passes no faster than the last twenty-eight days, I fear a weakness may grip me.

I hope tomorrow feels better. The future is bright. It has to be.