It has been so long that I do not know where to start.
Starting is always the hardest part.
I keep thinking about "This time net year" and how it is here. How the thought of getting here; to a better version of "this time next year" is what I have been fighting, surviving for.
She had promised me comfort cuddles, and gentle caresses in a house with a deck that overlooked the ocean. Wind-down walks on the beach, hand in hand and infinite movie nights. Begrudgingly she agreed to make her cat share the house with my future dog and adamantly promised that she loved me so much I needed to move in now.
I made her wait until "this time next year" because I had only known her for a few months. We did not even make it to the next weekend.
As things began to deteriorate, to the point of complete destruction. Relocate. Rebuild. Reset. Survive.
Foolish of me to think that better would be waiting here; only a few months after the complete destruction of the life I had been working so hard to make.
It was foolish to believe I would recover in just a few months. It was foolish to believe that "This time next year" would be better than the white lies and empty promises. Let's be real, few things beat owning a house with a beach view.
I've been in survival mode so long, I am numb to everything. I am trying so hard to believe it will get better.
But this "time next year" has come and gone and gone and I feel less like myself. As if there is nothing left for me to do because everything I touch, I ruin.
I am back in the waiting place; aimlessly waiting to feel something again. Still, I persist.
Comments