I can’t get over this past weekend. I can’t return to life. It has been almost four years since this wound was fresh, but right now you could fool me. I feel empty and lost. My shattered proverbial heart is loathing my actual beating heart. Each beat is accompanied by a twinge of longing for what was, every breath is weighted down by the subtle ache when I realize I can’t have what I once had.
I know my aching heart is nothing in comparison to some of the struggles other people are having right now… but from my stand point in my little life, it’s tragic and earth shattering. I know there is a reason for this. Some plan in the grand scheme of things. Some lesson that I will take away with me when my heart beats freely once again. For now, though, I’m a shapeless pile of mush, spending free moments wondering if I did, in fact, take what I had for granted. I can’t help but wonder “what if” and I know I can drown in “what if” situations. Still I find myself lost in the “What-If” Jungle without meaning to. “What if I never went to Florida for two months all those years ago?” or “What if I never moved out of Thomaston and continued living with my sister and her boyfriend?” or more recently “What if I didn’t let his rude, sarcastic, inappropriate words hurt so much?”. The fact that his words hurt so much only proves what I have known and what I think he was trying to prove – that I do still have feelings for him. But doesn’t his pushing me to see my reaction mean that he also still has feelings for me? What does that mean when he’s engaged to someone else?
I can’t do this. I can’t stop thinking about this weekend and how his words literally snapped my heart into a million tiny pieces and corralled me in the woods with a friend because I was too afraid to hear what else he had to say. I can’t stop thinking about it – but I can’t write about it. Tears are threatening. My chest is tightening. My heart is racing, yet slowing… like trying to push lead through my veins… I just can’t.
I wish I could. I tried. But I can’t.
Someday I’ll recover from this… Probably the week before I head back to CT for my sister’s wedding and get re-exposed to all of this again.