The Edges of Normal

pain chokes me
and stops the breath in my lungs
so i take a pill
to keep the sadness at bay.

i walk again down empty halls
the memory just out of reach
the emptiness fills me
and i turn away
so the sadness will not find me.

the end of a relationship is like loosing an arm.
you miss it - what it did for you, what you got to do with it.
and when your not looking, sometimes it still feels like its there, then you look, and you don't see it. you remember that it's gone and the pain of the loss is fresh again. You wish that you could stem the pain, stop the bleeding, stop remembering how you lost it, but you can't.
and you know that, with time, the pain will dwindle to an ache, you'll make due, fill the gap in your life where that arm use to be, find ways to work around its absence, find new ways to do old things. but how much time you'll need to get there isn't laid out for you. all the people who are there to help you can't tell you, or make it happen faster, or make it easier in the mean time.
so you just keep going, day to day, wishing the pain would stop, wishing you didn't miss it, wishing you didn't still try to do things with it, or expect it to be there - the way it always use to be there.
and sometimes it still bleeds a little, and sometimes i wish i could just put things back the way they use to be, except that i don't want things to be the way they use to be, i want things to be better, and stemming the flow of blood with a patch, trying to put it back together, doesn't actually fix anything. and so the only thing i can do is wait.
wait for the bleeding to stop, wait for the ache to come, wait to stop looking for her whenever something good happens or i want to do something fun, wait to stop missing the way she held me, wait to stop trying to call her when i get a chance to relax from my life. i just have to wait to stop wishing to share in her life or that she could share in mine.

i never set my altar back up when i moved.
i never unpacked my life or put myself into my living quarters. it's like who i am is still in boxes waiting to be unpacked and settled.
how's that for an analogy?

it's funny how the most mundane decisions can have such important impacts sometimes.
maybe if i'd kept my life going and displayed myself in my rooms the way i did in my apartment i wouldn't have let go of so much.
maybe i wouldn't have lost that part of me if i didn't leave it in a box after i moved.

but i moved in 2008 - i have to remember that. it'll be 3 years in february.
3 years without my altar or reminders of my spiritual journey. and the fighting and the bickering didn't start until 2009. the chances of it being completely related are slim.

still. i left part of myself some where and i lost it.

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