pain and cathartic musings
I don't want to get over it. I don't want to move on. I don't want to abandon hope of reconciliation. The central tenet of my belief system is based on reconciliation, so why would I even consider giving up hope for that?
Last night someone preached to me about the foolishness of being closed to new opportunities for love. I told her I'd rather remain single forever than give up hope. I told her it was altogether easier to live without a man anyway, so it would be counterproductive to open myself to finding another one. I told her I'm content to wait as long as it takes. She thinks I'm foolish. He probably would, too. I like to believe some secret part of him would be glad, though, just in case.
A friend who pined for at least two years after her breakup (of a 1.5 year long relationship) counts how many times I mention his name. Um. Really? Four or six years, depending on how it's counted? Hello? For all intents and purposes, common-law wife hood? And 54 days later I'm saying his name too much?
We don't talk, he and I. There's no email, phone calls, no secret texting. Nothing. NOTHING. No communication at all to or from the human being with whom I've talked at least once every day, excepting the stint in the Army and the 3 weeks in January of 2004.
Does he miss me? Does he look at pictures like I do? Does he wonder what I'm doing? Does he have secret hopes too?
Last night someone preached to me about the foolishness of being closed to new opportunities for love. I told her I'd rather remain single forever than give up hope. I told her it was altogether easier to live without a man anyway, so it would be counterproductive to open myself to finding another one. I told her I'm content to wait as long as it takes. She thinks I'm foolish. He probably would, too. I like to believe some secret part of him would be glad, though, just in case.
A friend who pined for at least two years after her breakup (of a 1.5 year long relationship) counts how many times I mention his name. Um. Really? Four or six years, depending on how it's counted? Hello? For all intents and purposes, common-law wife hood? And 54 days later I'm saying his name too much?
We don't talk, he and I. There's no email, phone calls, no secret texting. Nothing. NOTHING. No communication at all to or from the human being with whom I've talked at least once every day, excepting the stint in the Army and the 3 weeks in January of 2004.
Does he miss me? Does he look at pictures like I do? Does he wonder what I'm doing? Does he have secret hopes too?