“Take me back to the night we met. And then I can tell myself what the hell I’m supposed to do And then I can tell myself not to ride along with you” -Lord Huron The Night We Met
The presence of another person, that continued conversation and that “I’m an adult and just now meeting you” feeling. He created so much comfort just in his presence that I began to believe he was really something. He made the day, at that point in my life, so much.
And maybe all my other days aren’t meant to be so much. Maybe there is someplace better, with someone, who if not better, is at least more right.
But now I find myself suffocated by that presence he created. Is there a limit to the time we afford grief when the thing was barely a thing? And maybe its not grief as it is an occasional dull ache, and I don’t know how much of it is him, and how much is just life or me.
But I am quite sure I have passed the imaginary threshold of the time allowed to want something back. It’s been 5 years. When the actual time I spent with him, 3 months.
We were fine and then we were busy and then we were not fine. This story contiunally in three parts.
But I am okay. And he made things more than ok and I cannot have a man doing that when it is so clearly time to not be more than ok.
So it’s time to figure out who I am somewhere else. Obviously not going to be today, but tomorrow maybe, or next week, or well…sometime soon.