Archive | October, 2011

Laundry

25 Oct

October 23, 2011

Dear HB,

I was doing laundry tonight at my apartment, and realized the last time I had done it here and not at my parents’ house was with you. It seems an odd thing to bring you to mind, doing laundry, I didn’t even let you help, so I have to ask myself why it made me miss you so much. Laundry. I’m laughing at myself now, but I literally had to stop and take a deep breath. I wanted to call you, and just hear your voice, but its Sunday night and I’m pretty sure you are out of work, and even more sure that if you are, you are with her.

I know I can’t contact you directly, so I got the brilliant idea to write to you, and put it out into the universe, hoping that maybe, just maybe you’ll read this and realize you miss me too. I haven’t written letters I had no intentions of sending since Mr. Wrong and I broke up, so the fact I feel the need to do it again is worrisome. It makes me wonder why I ever needed to give you up. Not to say how I was feeling wasn’t valid, or that I was in love, or  even that the fact you were wasn’t terrifying, but all you were asking for (in theory) was time. Was my time really so precious I couldn’t give you a fraction of it?

Alas, this is where we are. You are with her and I am…dealing. I know the most likely scenario is that I will write you a dozen letters, you’ll never read them, and I will eventually move on, but I need to do it. I need to hope that you’ll stumble upon one of them and miss me enough to call, or that one day you will break up with her and I’ll have some sort of record to show you  I wasn’t lying when I told you I cared. I do miss you, and there’s not a day that goes by I don’t think of you. All I want is for you to be happy, however, and if that is a life without me, then so be it. I’ll come to accept that. For now, don’t judge me too much for almost driving up your street sometimes one my way to work, or for craning my neck to see if you are driving the Ford truck in front of me.

All the Best,

PR

Fences

17 Oct

I am so bad at beginnings.

Weeks ago I got this amazing idea to start a blog! Yeah ok. Where am I at in this venture? A few half done posts and a lot of procrastination. THAT should have been my major, considering what a pro I am.

Why are beginnings so difficult? What holds us back? I’ve thought a lot about that in my 24 years, well really maybe more the last 4 than the rest, but you can do a lot of thinking in 4 years. Is it because endings more often than not are more difficult than we want to face, in which case, it is just easier to simply not start in the first place? Maybe this doesn’t apply directly to a blog, but possibly we get so scared of the big beginnings that the little ones seem just as daunting.

I have also made the observation that beginnings become harder to begin the more time you let go by after an ending. (And here I will make a huge leap to a similar yet not so similar subject, don’t be alarmed) Four years ago there was an ending that exploded all over my then-present and future. Immediately following, my personal life went into a coma I wasn’t sure I would ever come out of. I managed to fulfill daily living functions, but life felt numb. As I am sure you have guessed, all this was due to a romance gone terribly awry. We’ll name him Mr. Wrong. Mr. Wrong was my Mr. Right for two years, two years I believed with all my heart would end with a proposal. Instead it ended with Mr. Irresistable and a hole in my heart the size of Texas.

After I managed to pull myself from the oblivion I call junior year second semester, I was determined to make up for lost time. There were lots of beginnings for the next three months. Tall beginnings, short beginnings, long beginnings, round beginnings, nameless beginnings…but that was all they were, beginnings. Beginnings without any middle or end are empty and simple. You could fill your whole life with them because there is no danger of bleeding out.

Beginnings without risk is what I needed that summer, but eventually, they weren’t enough. Texas was slowly getting smaller and I started to love beginnings that had a little danger to them. And for a long time those are the beginnings I craved. The first few times you really start getting to know a person, no expectations, no preconceived ideas, just the butterflies and rush of blood to the head. That would be all I wanted though, and once the feelings faded and it was time to get real, I’d get going.

Until 4 months ago.

Four months ago I was stubbornly single and grasping my independence with an iron fist. I did what I wanted when I wanted and the idea of commitment made me want to drink myself stupid. This code of honor is what held me back from what potentially could have been the love affair I wished Mr. Wrong could have been. The missing link that brought me from blindly, but determinedly running from any hint of the “c” word (commitment…get your mind out of the gutter), to breaking down the barbwire fence around my heart. Hunny Bunny (“HB” for short) was infatuated with me and wanted nothing more than to lay the world in my lap. He cared for me so intensely, so sincerely, that it was too much for my shrunken view of what I deserved, or even what I wanted.

It is a long story to be saved for another day, but HB is the reason I am searching for a new beginning. One worth the risk and full of adventure. The reason I want to get past the hollow beginnings I have made my trademark and find the middles full of intimacy and comfortability that only come with time and persistence.

Beginnings are necessary, but we can’t be scared of the endings, because what if, one day, there is a story without one?