...That Ends Well

I find myself writing these either shortly after some sort of catastrophic event has taken place or while waiting impatiently for one to occur. This time it's the former--the end of a relationship--that makes me wish I could capture exactly how I feel right now. All the confusion, fear, regret, emptiness; as if writing it down means getting it out of my system. I don't want to feel lost.

So I don't. Not really. I'm quite adept at pushing my feelings aside and pressing on. But apparently pretending not to feel lost just makes me feel...not more lost, but apathetic? I'm not even paying attention to what I'm doing anymore, just blindly bumping into walls, some sort of trial by error therapy. Friends weren't making me feel better, getting dressed up and going out wasn't making me feel better, and trying to get laid and backing out at the last moment certainly wasn't either. So what's next? Writing, apparently. And I know that won't make me feel better.

Not that this post should be an emo sadfest. There are lessons that have been learned, barriers that have been brought down, a relationship that has evolved despite the crippling pains of inadequacy and self doubt. No one is dead or broken. Nothing has been lost that can't be regained or replaced with something else.

And assuming this blog will continue to reflect nothing but new beginnings, completely detached from any middles or endings: here's to a fresh start!