Who designed this life? It must have been me, beyond space and time somewhere, and I kept an eye out for all the strange coincidences and correlatives that I could throw together.
It's too hard for me to make a coherent narrative out of it, but my job, my ex, my companion...they all tie together and weave in and out and back and forth making this tapestry, and it's all hanging by a string.
I have to let go of the fear that it will snap. I have to accept whatever happens and try my damnedest to ferret out the lesson from it all. What am I supposed to learn from this? And how can I make the lessons seem less negative?
I want to say I've learned not to try, not to believe in love no matter how hard it tries to sell itself to me. To keep my distance, especially when it seems like I should get closer. To paraphrase something I heard recently, to learn that fire burns you, so I don't have to stick my hand in the flame anymore. I know this is the bitter lesson though.
Despite my veneer I don't want to be bitter the rest of my life. I want the things I think I'm buying when "love" comes knocking on the door. As dippy and naive as it sounds I still want to believe that somewhere along the line all that is possible for me, even though I know it will just make it that much easier to sell it to me the next time. No matter how tall a wall I've built there will always be that small yet easily accessible unlocked side door called hope.
I guess I just have to try and let it all go...
