Tuesday, March 23, 2010

No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue...

Something hit me this morning after reading a friends status update on Facebook. He had been listening to an old album that was hitting him with some nostalgia and "making him want to go through a break up. In the worst ways." At first I laughed until I fell silent with the realization that there are no more break ups for me. This may sound crazy, you may be thinking "aaaand, isn't that a good thing you moron?" But on the contrary, it kind of saddened me. I suppose you'll want emphasis...
Break ups are hard. But with the harsh realities of waking up alone, wincing at songs and drinking too much there is catharsis. There is a hope for a new beginning, reinvention. I crave catharsis on a regular basis. Often times I build up for weeks, months and finally explode in a cacophony of crying, curses and malaise. And in the end, my eyes swollen from overexposed tear ducts, I breathe. I sweep away the shell of cracked introspection. I hang up the cloak of bitterness and move on. I break up with an mentally abusive version of myself, if you will.
I'm saddened at my lack of break ups because I realize now, that I'm no longer breaking up with people, but perpetually with different ideas and versions of myself and an ever evolving world, and instead of moving on or packing up an ex's stuff in cardboard boxes I must wake up to myself everyday. A person so indelibly flawed she may cause harm to herself or others (emotionally).
A lot of the time there is little emotional turmoil in spousal arguments, a large part of it is anger. Miscommunication, annoyances, these I can handle. But there is no severance, you are forced to sit down and analyze, work it out. Solve your algebra. I've always hated working things out. Choosing instead to burn it up and burn out in fiery trail of hasty decisions. Cut and dry. And then maybe have a good cry, find some peace in vodka and then next week flourish as a newer, wiser person.
And now...Now when I hear old songs that bear the weight of past mistakes, lovers eyes, hopes and idealisms, bruised egos, I don't sigh anymore for the people they once represented, but for a time when mistakes didn't hold such a high premium, when "I just need my space" was reason enough, or for no reasons at all.

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