I can’t believe I’m about to publish this post, but maybe once in a while it’s good to put something out in the world that is honest, sincere, and real. So, here goes.
Twenty-four hours ago, my boyfriend and I of over a year broke up. It was an amicable parting of ways, but a parting of ways nonetheless.
Honestly, I feel like I fell off a boat and have been swimming away ever since. We built something, he and I. We built a home full of memories and shared experiences– cooking experiments, road trips, watching shows and movies together, adventurous dinners, laughter, long walks, hellos, and goodbyes. (He went with me to Memphis and Atlanta, consoled me when my father died, and celebrated my birthday.) The thing that made our home a little different was that it stretched over 400 miles. Ours was a long-distance relationship. As such, perhaps it was doomed from the start.
It’s a strange feeling having to deconstruct a distinct set of future possibilities. In the envisioning, in my dreaming, of what our shared lives would become I was seeing so many beautiful things. They’re fading away now, as they do in movies just before the end credits start to roll. I’m at that point where I’m still sitting in my theater seat listening to the film score and staring thoughtlessly at the big screen. A flock of little white letters start to float slowly upstream in the darkness. I sit there in a daze, wondering what the heck happened to the story after it all faded into black.
Twenty-fours hours ago, we agreed that we shouldn’t talk to each other for a while, maybe for a long while, until I’ve gotten enough space to move through this and beyond it. I think this is best because I know myself, and I will not be able to move on any other way.
There is a song that has been playing over and over in my head all these hours. The essence of this song lives in the foundation of the home we built. It exists completely in him.
I told him this last night, and through this song, I say it again . . .
I’m writing this post and playing this video because I want the world to know that I was part of something rich and amazing, that my life was once romantically linked to a strong, kind, and noble man. He gave me the best I could have ever hoped for in someone. He is a very noble man, one who I hope will find happiness and do great things in the years to come. I hope he will always know how much I admire him. How much I love him.
As for myself, some unknown shore awaits my arrival in the distant and unforeseeable future. Maybe it’ll be a floating island made of banyan trees and occupied by thousands of meerkats. Maybe it’ll be a place where I can lay down my feet for a little while, where I can dream of other possibilities and put my quiet sorrows to rest. Maybe there’ll be a piano there, somewhere, ready to roam with me.
I don’t know where I’m going, but I have the benefit of knowing where I’ve been. If I had the chance to do it all over again, I would, and I wouldn’t change a thing.
After I hit “Publish” on this post, I will go to bed. I can’t tell you much beyond that point, only that it feels like I’m re-starting my life over again, as I have many times before.
I’ll just keep swimming, I guess. Let the ocean carry me far far away, until I can stand up and be myself again. I know of no other option at this point.
It’s time to build a new home, for me. Somehow. Eventually . . . .