As I write more I realize that well sometimes you run across something so beautiful, or so powerful that you just have to sit down and see it again through new eyes.
I can recall exactly where I was when I wrote this, and it was one of the least happy places of my life.
Sometimes you are meant to run across things to be sure that you do not make the same mistakes again in your life.
Sometimes you have the need to share because someone needs to hear what you are saying.
I am not totally sure which reason I am sharing this, or if it is a combination, but I give you:
Can you die from a broken heart?
I wonder sometimes, if it is possible. It feels like it is, and once I even thought that I may want to, but I still ask can you die from a broken heart?
Maybe I just took to heart the fantasy that I was sold.
Maybe I just believed that if I just did things differently than those old women in my life that I could be different too.
You know I honestly think that not everyone HAS to have a broken heart. Sometimes you can meet the right person for you and you don’t have to look any further.
There is a skool of thought that these lessons you learn so that you can appreciate the real McCoy when it DOES arrive at your doorstep.
What if you think that you already HAVE MET the real McCoy? Then what? How you do re-learn what you know to be truth?
When the one you were meant for walks into and then out of your life, without warning either time, how do you come back from that? How do you find the ability to move along?
I told myself that I would not allow the new millennia to arrive with this pain on my heart, but I don’t know how to lift the shadow of what could have been.
I don’t know how to stop asking WHY, although no one is listening to give me an answer.
I don’t think that I asked too much.
I think I asked for exactly what it is that I needed.
It takes a lot of courage for me to do that, when all you have heard for 25 years is no.
When all you hear is no, you do everything within your power to erase the word from your existence, it just hurts too much.
I did ask, and you told me no, and then you were gone.
I didn’t get to say, I will wait if I have to. Yes I deserve it, but I am willing to wait for it because you are just that extraordinary.
I never got to explain that when I see you for the first time, if it’s first thing in the morning when I roll over, or when you walk into the kitchen and back into the living room, or when work takes you away for weeks, and you walk up that hallway to my office that my heart stops beating. Every time I see you for the first time.
It’s like it knows what you are and can only yield. Like I can only yield.
But I don’t think that I asked too much.
Apparently I did, because the ink is hitting the paper instead of me knelt before you.
Did I ever get to tell you that you are the first one that I have ever knelt for? I wonder if I will ever do that again. It’s never felt natural before you, which makes me think this is unique to you.
Did I ever tell you how at peace it makes me feel to kneel?
I remember the first time that you told me to, and I remember the smirk on your face when I gave you the look and asked why.
When you cradled my face in your hands I knew just at that moment it was precisely where I was meant to be because nothing else had ever felt so natural. Not Bobby, not Michael, nothing else.
As I looked up at you, that day I knew I could do forever.
I am just not sure if I can believe in forever any longer though.
Forever was supposed to be you, and you are gone.
Now forever seems like a sentence rather than a promise.
Now forever seems like far too long to go, to never feel your lips again. To never hear you call me baby girl again. To never hold your hand as we walk again. To never be able to tell you that I love you again.
I am not sure that I have the strength to do it.
You asked me why it was important. I said well it just IS!
But it is deeper than that.
It is understanding for the first time, someone could actually want me and that I was not a mistake, that I was not an accident, and that I was not the secret I turned out to be. For the very first time I was living out loud – in color – in the open and I need that all of the time.
It is important because in this world of firsts that I explored with you – this is the first time I felt loved back.
I didn’t have to do anything but be me…and you loved me.
Bobby wanted me to be his beard. I could not.
Michael wanted me to be his baby factory. I could not.
You only asked that I breathe, and that I can do.
But you are not here, and I can no longer breathe.
It would not hurt my pride if right now you decide……
you did though didn’t you.
I don’t think that I asked for too much.
But maybe I did.
Remembering when I know you are not coming back is too painful.
Just maybe though this exists somewhere else. With someone else. Just maybe.
I think I need to believe in that – because this only happening once – and having it gone – is more than I can bear.
10 years from now I just may understand that you were special but not unique.
I am just not sure how to manage in the meantime.
I don’t think that I want to either.
That was in 1999.
It is 2011, and I am still here and I am still standing.
Heartache is a bitch.
Heartache is something that feels like you will crush under its weight.
You don’t though.
You may one day die of heart failure, but you don’t die of a broken heart.
That person and I danced for a long time after I wrote that. Some good, some bad, some that defies definition.
Yet I am still here.
You can find yourself again, if you stop looking for what once was.
One of my first entries here at Vizionz asked can you go home again.
The answer to that is no.
What was can not be recreated, no matter how many times you attempt, no matter how much you want it to.
You can have something different, but you can never have that moment again.
You have to ask yourself though if you are willing to attempt something different.
By staying at that place – from the past – that you look back at so fondly, you can not move ahead. You can’t walk forward looking backwards.
At least you can’t and not injure yourself more.
Letting go of the past to embrace your future is not something that we excel at, but maybe we should.
History is for books, life is to live.