I’ve been struggling with coming back to this blog for months. At first it was because P was reading my most intimate thoughts and to be honest, most of it was about her and my feelings towards her – the love, the hate, the want, the need, the desire, the confusion and most of all the hurt. A hurt so deep it crippled me to the point I couldn’t share it, release it or even begin to understand why it was happening.
So I shut it all off.
The pain was too unbearable.
I wanted to scream at her for causing me such heart break. I wanted to write horrible things that I knew would hurt her in the reading of the words. I wanted to hurt her the way she had hurt me. Deeply. Profoundly. Everlasting. A deep festering wound in her soul that would never truly heal. I wanted her to know the pain I felt when she left me to pursue her own happiness…something it killed me to understand that she couldn’t seem to do with me…
But I couldn’t be that cruel.
Never that cruel to someone I had once loved to the point of distraction unending. She had been my universe, my one great love, my heart…my lobster.
So instead, for months I have been aching to write out my heart, needing emotional release, wanting to continue my story with all the pain and angst and soul destroying heartache but I have been shut up in a bubble of denial and half truths – none of which I wanted to bring to the surface and deal with honestly and openly.
But the long and short of it simply put?
I have a broken heart.
Nothing never experienced by countless others.
Nothing a thousand poems, well meaning friends and self help books can’t address.
Yet because it is my heart, this breakage is like no other and the descent of sufferance has been nearly insurmountable.
And through it all my words have grown still and quiet. My muse silenced. Blocked by the pain. And this amputation of my greatest gift has withered my body and mind. I have missed the writing. Craved it like a starving cat. The free flowing thoughts from mind to fingertip. The release of expression no matter the content. No matter the cost. No matter the vulnerability and exposure. I need to fill that capacity like my lungs need air. There is no me, no life…no anything without my words.
I have returned.