settling

For a while now, I've been trying to forgive. With all my efforts in vain, my frustrations rose. My incapability to let it go was an insult to my character. But recently, I've dawned upon a new thought. Not only must I forgive the one who scorned me, but more importantly, I have to forgive myself. This is not a get out of jail free card for him, he will never be a jail bird, one with wings. God knows I clipped his wings long ago. But it does buy him time to come to terms with transgressions, it does give him time to realize that maybe he did do something wrong.

I've always considered myself strong, steadfast, a force. So therefore, when our end came and I reflected upon those eleven months anger rose not only for that man but at myself. In the end, it wasn't just the way we ended that was torturous. It was the entire journey. The things I let myself be subjected to were actions I said I would never endure. I always thought I was a strong woman, that no man could beat me down. But love truly is completely blind.

So, as I walked my way through tragic day blending into tragic song, I sank into denial. I denied the fact that I had failed myself. I had not been strong enough to put an end to my own suffering. The scars I wore externally were a metaphor for what was happening inside my mind. At the time I thought them more superfluous than that, but now as I've come to know myself, and my addictions, and my weaknesses, I realize that for the second time in my life, I chose to hurt myself in an attempt to protect a man.

Like I said, it's not an excuse for his behavior. There are things I look back on that really were horrible. Screaming matches, jealousy, teary phone calls, seeking revenge when it wasn't meant to be sought. I never intended to fall in love with him, it was never the plan. At the time when he first approached me, my heart was with another. That he never knew. It would've killed him. It wasn't until three months in that I let the other one go and gave myself fully to him.

That was the mistake; the complete and utter surrender of myself. I was so infatuated with golden light and poetry that I let myself live a life accompanied by someone who in essence, wasn't what I needed. I needed confidence and security. I needed to be nurtured.

My resentment towards him was immeasurable. This man, no this boy, had caused me to completely contradict everything I stood for. Strength, will, feminism, it all took a backseat to trying to hold onto something I should have let free such a long time ago. But I never would have. No matter how many times I threatened, no matter how many times I almost did, no matter how many times I told myself you have to end this, and be assured there were plenty of moments, and they existed not only in the end of our story, but the middle and beginning as well. But I never would. The ignorant love held me moored to his dock, fighting the waves pounding against my helm.

The reason we fell in love and the reason we fell apart are one in the same. There is a difference between similarity of interest and similarity of soul. On the exterior, we seemed perfect for each other. The way our mouths and hands moved, both on paper and over each other, the things we held important, the way we both always fell so hard. But the integral things, the things that define personality, those were always opposing. Religion, politics, marriage, family, religion, friendship, loyalty, religion, religion, religion, our values were different. We were both so stubborn that neither one would change and why should we? It's much to great a sacrifice to change the very construction of yourself in order to appease another. I knew this from the start, really, truly, I did. But once again. Love. Is. Blind. I think he knew it to. We both always knew that our promises to each other were tempting the God he worshiped and I denied. His simplistic approach to conflict and my dramatic rashness were never going to meet on common ground. But we were in love with the poetry of each other. Not the idea of each other, because it was not an idea, it was reality, but it was the exterior. We fell in love with what, in our books we fell such victim to, would have been an ideal match. But this is not a story nor can it be manipulated by pen and paper. There are no edits and rewrites. It is truth. It is reality. Every poem has an end. And by the transitive property, so did ours.

I awoke this morning in tangled linen, realizing that I could never belong to him. I could never belong to anybody if I did not belong to myself. In order to give myself to anybody, I have to pay myself the same courtesy. In order to fall in love, I must fall in love with myself. Every flaw, every curve, every word, every scar.

I awoke this morning in tangled linen, my skin still smelling of the one that had left just hours before. I reflected on those moments. How as he left from my doorstep just before the sun, his kiss lingered on my lips long after he had driven away. The words of "I love you" echoed through my ears as I drifted into slumber. I awakened still basking in the rosy glow, my skin salty with dried salt, my muscles aching, but blissfully happy.

It's a different kind of happy. It's a different kind of love. Everything is in reverse from last time. He doesn't speak eloquently and it's taken time for me to adjust to his simplicity instead of the world of verbal royalty I came from. But what he doesn't say with his words he says with his heart. He knows me- the small, the superfluous, the random, the profound. Whether bringing me vintage books when I've had a rough week, holding me when I'm sick, or sitting talking with me till the early hours of the morning, our heads clouded by smoke and weariness, he cares for me. He nurtures. There's such a simplicity in it. He adores me, but not for my talents or quirks, but for who I am. The talents and quirks don't go unnoticed however. He said something to me a few weeks ago that stole my heart. He said "I'm proud of you. I'm always proud of you. You blow me away." He's proud of me. I had never thought about it before, but it's something I had never heard before. It's that simplicity that makes me love him. It's the simplicity that makes me look at our relationship with realistic eyes as opposed to the tinted ones I had before.

As to you my blue eyed wonder, I do not forgive you. Not yet. I don't think I can ever fully forgive you because I don't fully understand. I understand why you were the one to finally end us. I understand that. What I don't understand is why you did what you did, the way that you did. I will never understand your cruelty. I know you're not evil and therefore, I know you feel the intensity of the pain you've caused me, but still you are silent. No remorse passes from your lips. That is what I cannot forgive as of now. But alas I am trying. Everyday I am trying to forgive you. And I'm growing closer every moment. With every day that I forgive myself a little bit more, I move closer to forgiving you. Every time I tell myself that I am not weak, that I am not a fool for allowing love to trump abuse, I move closer to being at rest with you. You are not a bad man. You are wonderful, but not wonderful for me, nor am I for you. In essence, you had the strength to do what I always said I would. Maybe you loved me enough to see you were not what I needed. You loved me enough to let me go, maybe you knew what I needed before I did. That image of you is what I try to cling to.

I will never forget. I will someday forgive. And I will always love you. Once you fall in love you never really fall out of it. The love may change color, shape, form, it may rearrange itself to fit a different tune, but it will always be there. And that is not a sin. That is a gift. So for now, my love for you lays deep and thick in the bottom of my heart. Dormant and at rest, it is on it's way to contentment and acceptance. It is merely out of sorts from it's recent relocation. All will be well in time. For today, I love another, and I love him deeply. Today, the storm begins to calm. The furnishings thrown about the room have found new residence, the cracked glass panes reflect new life, and the dust, begins to settle.