Fever Dream
If you had told me that I would be living in a time where Donald Trump had not only been a president of the united states, had attempted to make a coup to stay in control, that a pandemic had taken the world hostage for years, witness a Russian-Ukraine war and that the United States was going ass-backwards in freedoms, I would have believed it plausible. (After all, have I not been screaming that history is bound to repeat itself since... I don't know, forever?)
What I find mostly shocking is where I am in life, honestly.
17 year old me could hardly fathom life beyond 30. At 32, I simultaneously attempted to end it all and lost my father. At 33, my husband walked out of my life. At 33 and a half, my boyfriend also walked away and then I proceeded to walk around for the following years out of the dark abyss I had found myself stuck in my whole life.
And here I am, alive. Not just alive, but *living*. Living and thriving!!
Some things have not changed; I'm still in the same apartment I shared with my ex husband. I still loathe being here, my room mates being my brother, Nova the newest addition to the family and the ghosts of the past. The last few being more prominent as I move on with life.
Some ghosts are worth sharing my existence with. Sometimes, I swear I hear Watson at night or feel him on top of me as I sleep.
Other ghosts rear their ugly heads from time to time, especially when I least expect them.... such as when my boyfriend does something incredibly sweet and I find myself not only shocked at the genuine sentiment but also flung to the past.
I know that his presence helps lay those old ghosts to rest but some are just harder to vanquish. I loathe that they are still here, pestering me with insecurities whenever something wonderful comes my way. And while it would be ideal to be able to physically move to settle elsewhere, I have to recognize that staying here perhaps may be the best option lest I carry these old "friends" with me to a new beginning.
Not that there are no new beginnings to have - I just rather navigate this cemetery, lay the dead to rest and exorcise the ones still left before starting fresh.
In the meantime, we shall purge the things that remind me of Dipshit. Dipshit... that's his nickname. I refuse to let his name cross my lips (or fingertips) unless absolutely necessary. Certain things remind me of the drawn out, painful arguments of yesteryear (Like the stupid desk I let him pick for me to use that I hated since we saw it at Ikea but I was just fed up of dealing with the hemming, hawing, constant back tracking and just being there. It was in budget and I was tired of walking around that maze, damnit!).
For the first time since I can remember I am excited about the future. I do not see myself in this same place come next year or the next.