Dwelling

I am a blogaholic. I have 7 blogs to date, at least 3 of which are updated with any regularity, and they all serve a different purpose. Something, though, tells me that I will be closing the ones I find unnecessary. I am an explorer of my own abilities and a writer at heart. As a writer, I find myself often casting words into the void, hoping for some kind of bounce-back. Here goes.

I stumbled onto our music today; all the music we wrote together, music he wrote when he was with me. Somehow this inspired me to look for him and I found a picture of him with the Warlock. I have pictures of myself with this same guitar. He looks different- as thick as always, but with long hair, like Jon Davis. He stopped cutting his hair when he started cheating on me. Rebellion, I guess. For a long time he looked like a fat hobo, if such a thing existed. I knew he was doing it because he was rebelling against my rebellion and neither of us would say a word.

In the rare moments when I can remove myself for all of the horrible things he did to me, I remember how I felt with him, how much I loved him. I find myself, in a split second, cursing for the mistakes I made, and the shit from him that I took. I rehash, in mere milliseconds, everything that broke us down. In those rare, futile, tenuous moments, I remember what my world used to be, all the hopes that I had. When the moment is over, those things are all ripped away and I am left simply with the sting of the memory.

There is a heavy anchor holding that boat in my safe harbor. It is the one dangerous element in my world- the unresolved. He is a canker sore- a boil on the butt of my existence. I wish I could sever him off completely. I didn’t make the break with that life that I should have to firmly close a door on it. I packed my bags and ran. I disappeared. I walked out on it without tying up any loose ends. I started over without warning. Funny thing about running- you can’t. It follows you.

K

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~ by Kд§$ị (ИovΔ) on 12/08/2009.

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