Most days I feel fairly optimistic about the future. I feel like I’ll be fine. That I’ll mend and find love again. A love that is fuller. Less weighed down by barriers. Less weighed down by betrayal. I know that I’m a good person and I know I can be brave. So I think this is possible. Likely, even.
But there are other days…
Days when the loneliness creeps in and swallows me whole. Days when I viscerally miss the familiarity, closeness, and companionship of our past. Days I wish I hadn’t taken those past days for granted. Days I wish those past days had never happened because to remember them, but have them taken away, yet still watch others have them…it cuts me down. It makes me feel small. And like I’m emptying in all the wrong ways. Like I’m moving in reverse while everyone else is moving forward. Like I started out the gate too soon with this love thing. And stumbled. And fell. And shattered every bone. And everyone else is still running.
And on days like this I feel both love and hatred so close to the surface. They tangle with one another, leaving an acidic taste in my mouth. A taste full of melancholy and resentment; joy and tenderness. I want so much for these things to not be intertwined. I wish so much to feel like I’m not moving in reverse.
Tomorrow is another day, though. Maybe I will figure it out.
“The best thing you can possibly do with your life is tackle the motherfucking shit out of love.” – Cheryl Strayed, Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love & Life from Dear Sugar
black girl magic & meditation 