The aftermath

The aftermath of saying goodbye is a tough one, not going to lie. If I was a smoker, I’d have been through a few packs by now. If I was an eater, I would have made several trips to my favorite fast food place, which if you’re keeping track, is Taco Bell. If I was into drugs, I would have taken any deadly combination I could have gotten my hands on and smoked or shot myself into oblivion….and alcohol, yes I partake, but I have not quite figured out the amount needed to send myself off into a clumsy stupor…believe me, I’ve tried…so I cried.

Because all that’s left now is ME and the aftermath of saying goodbye.

I imagine I will go on like I always do and I imagine that I will have wonderful days and beautiful experiences but it will always be missing something. And although this ache will dull and the space may fill in slightly, I know my soul will forever miss the part I so willingly gave away.

I am searching for the lesson in this loss. I am wondering why the Universe would deliver to me everything I ever wanted TWICE and strip it away. I wonder why my heart had to have the extraordinary deception of thinking we had finally found it. ..that IT existed and that IT could vanish without an ounce of care.

There is an excerpt from a poem I keep repeating in my head…and reading every time the book is near.

“A silver bird

flies over the autumn lake.

When it has passed,

the lake’s surface does not try

to hold on to the image of the bird. ” ~Huong Hai

In other words, the lakes simply accepts whatever comes and although it’s surface is momentarily changed, it does not dwell on anything longer than it is actually happening, once the bird is gone, the lake remains unchanged.

I keep trying to apply this to my own life. I keep trying to let it go, accept things as they happened and not allow it to change me…

maybe this feeling is temporary….but I have a feeling that I am forever changed.

And maybe the lake appears calm on the surface but maybe, just maybe beneath it’s calm waters it longs for that bird to decorate it’s surface again…

and maybe, just maybe the lake is so still, hoping the bird will come and rest it’s wings, held in her warm embrace.

Leave it to me to be forever hopeless…romantic…in a splendid pain.





2 thoughts on “The aftermath

  1. Going thru what I have been for over 3 yrs, the one thing that I hated more than anything was hearing…it will get better. I know people don’t grasp the depths of the lifelong endurance of pain, abuse, betrayal and always being left just don’t know what else to say in their attempt to comfort. But one thing I came to accept is that IT DOES NOT GET BETTER, IT GETS DIFFERENT. Those are the words that serve to keep air in my lungs and create the ability to put one foot in front of the other, day in and day out of the existence I have been sentenced to endure. I wish for u that ur different leads u to living rather than existing. Write on sista, write on.

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