05.01.20 | 7:08 pm

there is so much to forget.

how much have you forgotten about me?

have you forgotten the way i used to clutch the edge of your shirt as i was falling asleep, while you were reading me to sleep?

have you forgotten how excited i would get every time "hotel california" played on the radio in your car, how i made us stay until it finished?

have you forgotten walking through target or home goods with me, going up and down every aisle, telling me to buy what i had decided i shouldn't?

it's so hard to remember, a few years out -- both a blessing and a curse. i don't want to remember sobbing to myself on the bathroom floor, and your voice, tired and dejected, floating through the door, asking me to come out, before giving up and retreating to the bedroom.

i don't want to remember getting high with one of my best friends, my friend and i falling asleep in our bed, and waking up to see you watching porn in the living room, in plain view, on our giant tv, while we slept just feet away.

i don't want to remember on the day of a concert i was so looking forward to, after asking -- pleading -- to have a good day, how you said to me, "you really don't give a shit about me," and left.

but i do.

memory is a strange creature. the day to day bits, the ones that built up most of our relationship -- they're gone. only the big moments remain.

sometimes i think about it and just resign myself to: we were just so young.

but were we?


i am finally well enough today to get out of the house, to get things done. and because of that, it's as though all of the emotions want to flow out of me.

i had to stop my yoga video during three separate poses to cry. to write notes in my phone. to just lie on the floor and breathe.

this loneliness feels like a sort of detox. each time i do a "dating break" like this, it feels like i'm detoxing from... is it the attention? the brief companionship?

or is it the possibility of actually having someone/something?

if i'm honest, the act of letting go of that possibility is incredibly, incredibly difficult.

as much as i tout my independence, i don't want to be alone. (and i'm not - friends and family - yada yada.) i don't actually want to go through life doing things with just myself. i want to continue to do things on my own because i want to, not because it's my only choice.


next month i turn thirty.

i suppose it's one of those monumental years. a milestone. a new decade.

and i embrace that fact. i'm ready.

and i will take the next six weeks to focus on that. not someone else.

the loneliness will fade.

it always does.

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