It's been building up for awhile now. This is not going to be one of my shiny look on the bright side kind of posts. I do that a lot. I keep thinking that if I just try harder to be happy, it will happen. I try to be optomistic.
But maybe this is just how life is. I got an email last night from an ex, saying he/we never had a chance, because I was obviously still pining for Him, after all this time. It's been three years since Adam. THREE. Maybe we only ever really fall in love once, and if we do, we're worse off than not knowing what it would have been like.
What am I supposed to do? I still feel like there's a hole ripped into my heart that doesn't heal, jesus, it barely ever stops bleeding.
Not to mention the divorce, the cult stuff, I still wake up a lot of days and look in the mirror, not really knowing at all who I am. But I show up. I keep trying to move on. And that's what most people do. I know there are people everywhere who feel hopeless - people who live in third world countries, who are poor, who are disadvantaged, who have lost people they love in death.
I feel guilty that my life is as good as it is, just getting back from a trip to the Bahamas with a good friend who loves me more than any man except my dad has ever loved me. We have workout nights on Tuesdays, so last night I walked home from his condo, lit a cigarette and wondered why I felt so unhappy when I should have felt more grateful.
I am grateful. I have a wonderful family, a great guy in my life and his amazing family, a good job and a fabulous apartment with the best cat ever. I am fine. But I don't believe anymore. It's not like me, I'm the hopeless romantic who writes down poems and keeps a journal and believes true love exists...or at least I was that person. I miss her.
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