February 22nd, 2012

[guest post by The Fallout]

I’m a fighter not a lover; at least that’s what I thought.
I thought it made me less vulnerable somehow.
I’d think
“I’ve survived more battles than I care to remember, forgotten more than most have faced”
and yet, here I am  –
I am defeated, not by death but by that other enduring strain, love.
Love where there is no winner or loser, no right or wrong. No rules to regulate those runaway feelings, no master to tame them.
Where your mind and heart are at war, both victory and loss are yours; both suffered and celebrated in a space vast and yet invisible.
So you walk away breaking your own heart even as it was already broken.
Sometimes letting go just feels like losing.
Then you bargain with yourself, you justify, rationalize; you pick up the phone and send a message or make a call that just leaves you feeling deflated after the momentary high of reading their words, hearing their voice…
Nothing has changed, you are still alone and the word looms – single.
Why is it so hard to let go of what could have been? Is it the time spent hoping? Or the effort and energy expended but unrewarded?
Or is it the gaping hole, the space they leave in your heart and life?
Whatever it is, life carries on, as it must,
with you or without
and so you do what you must.
Run away, re-invent, rebound.
Something, anything to declare your survival, to feel yourself moving on even if you do not, cannot believe it.
If only you didn’t care if you would be missed, replaced, forgotten.
If only you didn’t have to check and see, ask questions that hurt in the asking, hurt at the response.
You see yourself, question your self  in a dance – 2 steps forward, 1 back.
I’m a fighter not a lover, walking wounded but walking away. Looking back but walking on.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, February 22nd, 2012 at 8:18 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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