6 years gone
For a long time, I spent most of my energy with Live Journal going over my difficulties with losing someone who, in a lot of ways, had been the most important person in my life. As we all do, I moved on, found new love, learned to live with the absence of this person in my life, and so the topics of discourse gradually moved along to other subjects. Still, I would be lying if I told myself that I didn't still miss her.
It's been just about 6 years since she left and I was left to sort out what remained. In many ways I feel I've done a good job. I've learned, experienced and grown in ways which had never seemed possible at the time. But in many other ways, I feel like a failure. Perhaps I set myself up for such a feeling, rationalizing that the only reason she and I were no more was because we both had more to do with our lives. I guess the truth is, we both thought we did.
I shouldn't say that. She says she's happy, living all over the world. Diving in and out of people and situations like some freshly fallen leaf on the breeze. It's a romantic image, until we remember that when leaves fall from trees, they are dead. While they can end up on the other side of the world, there's nothing carrying them, except for a breeze.
And the alternative? To sit and squander day after day, trying to piece together some sort of plan. Like an explorer without a compass. You always hear about those people who just want to take some time away and not have to do anything. I was like that as well, and so I took the time I needed and then some, and I came out without a direction in which to go.
Perhaps this is simply what the "20's" are all about. You either whore yourself to all the world has to offer and hope to god at the end of it you can still live with yourself, or you lock yourself in a little box and hope your ass will age like wine. I have a feeling though, that either way, you end up alone.
And so in thinking of these things, I think of her. I think of all the things I've done since she's left, I think of all the things she's done, and I ask myself, are either of us better people. I don't think the answer is yes. At least, it's not on my end. Or maybe, it's just that the world is not a better place. Or maybe it's just that I don't see it like I did anymore.
It's been just about 6 years since she left and I was left to sort out what remained. In many ways I feel I've done a good job. I've learned, experienced and grown in ways which had never seemed possible at the time. But in many other ways, I feel like a failure. Perhaps I set myself up for such a feeling, rationalizing that the only reason she and I were no more was because we both had more to do with our lives. I guess the truth is, we both thought we did.
I shouldn't say that. She says she's happy, living all over the world. Diving in and out of people and situations like some freshly fallen leaf on the breeze. It's a romantic image, until we remember that when leaves fall from trees, they are dead. While they can end up on the other side of the world, there's nothing carrying them, except for a breeze.
And the alternative? To sit and squander day after day, trying to piece together some sort of plan. Like an explorer without a compass. You always hear about those people who just want to take some time away and not have to do anything. I was like that as well, and so I took the time I needed and then some, and I came out without a direction in which to go.
Perhaps this is simply what the "20's" are all about. You either whore yourself to all the world has to offer and hope to god at the end of it you can still live with yourself, or you lock yourself in a little box and hope your ass will age like wine. I have a feeling though, that either way, you end up alone.
And so in thinking of these things, I think of her. I think of all the things I've done since she's left, I think of all the things she's done, and I ask myself, are either of us better people. I don't think the answer is yes. At least, it's not on my end. Or maybe, it's just that the world is not a better place. Or maybe it's just that I don't see it like I did anymore.