They’re Mine, OK? Mine.
Published November 3rd, 2009Driving up Whitsett again. It’s only been 2 years or so…a year and half since we last spoke - but it seems much, much longer. So much has happened to me since. But I drive past her old apartment, the one I first saw her again after a year apart, the one I helped her move out of…and it all comes back. The exhilaration. Walking her dog up and down this street. The feelings. They are still strong and I miss her.
Yeah. I miss her. I loved her. I miss all the girls, the women now, I’ve loved. It hurts to have lost them. Does that mean I’m not over them? No. It should hurt. There was a vast goodness in them and I loved them for it. If I were able to discard those feelings, to ignore them, if that loss did not hurt - to me that means I probably didn’t love them. The loss of something important, something special, involves pain. For me, deep pain. And that’s OK. That proves to me it’s real. Proves it was real. I don’t want someone who loved me, who said they loved me, to forget about me that easily. Would you? I will miss the people I’ve loved forever. That to me is something about me that is a strength, not a weakness. And if they needed me somehow, even now - I’d be hard pressed to say no. Even if I’m not sure they’d do that for me. Again, that proves to me - it was real. For me.
I can’t speak for them - but I don’t have to, I don’t need to - it was real. For me.
So I drive on, there’s pain there, there’s hurt. There’s nostalgia. There’s wonderment. Someday I hope to find a love that sticks. That lasts. That endures regardless of differences. Maybe I’ve loved people who are flawed - but we’re all flawed. Maybe my flaw is that I couldn’t look past theirs. Maybe their flaws include not looking past mine. I continue to flail in the dark.
Turn the corner, head home, the same way I always have from Whitsett. Now, for different reasons. Tonight was a night of fun, of camaraderie,one of the few things I look forward to these days. It’s a dark night - they all are of late. But there’s two beacons of hope, two shinings in the darkness. One, my friends and the fun we had tonight. Two, the lost love that used to live on this street. One is current and I’m so glad I’ve found it. One is in the past, but that I hope to find again, elsewhere, one day.
These memories are mine. I will feel about them how I feel. It is my opinion that the hurt of the loss is actually a good thing. Don’t try to take it away from me - because I respect that person too much, and those feelings too much. They’re mine, OK? Mine. I don’t need them to be any different than they are.
Good night, everyone.
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