"Gather yourself." I repeat this over and over. But I can't stop weeping. I sit by a small light in this new apartment, my bed is warm, but like my facade during the day, this is a lie. The warmth isn't from him, but instead a heated blanket.
"Love without tragedy" booms through the bose speakers.
"even forever ain't forever" aren't just the words my ears hear, but words my heart feels.
I've promised myself I wouldn't cry anymore. I did well. It's 8:15pm and it wasn't until I read an article on Elephant Journal did the dams burst.
I keep telling people that we ended it because it had run it's course. I say, It just wasn't mean to be. He wasn't my one.
But like she wrote, I wasn't chosen. Words were spoken, but actions screamed a different story.
Men in dark bars, or dodgy alley ways are preference to the life we dreamt about. Glory holes and orgy sex parties with strangers. Men who will only fuck you once, and never see again. The rush of a stranger rather then the love of a familiar. The fact I lose out to someone who will never have a face, who will never ever know his name.
I promised myself I'd focus on me. Not the promises we made, the dreams that have been pushed aside, the future that won't ever happen.
I promised myself, so now I'll go and do that.
I won't be upset I broke my promise to myself. I'll accept my feelings of loss. I'll lean into the pain and then, I'll move into my next moment.
Just like calisthenics - its not that you can do the move -its that you can control it. It isn't easy. you have to really commit and have to have control.
Practice makes perfect.
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