Loss

I've lost a lot in the last two years. More than anyone else should have to. Relationships that I clung to with desperation. People I depended on more than life itself. People I thought were friends, people whom I was only beginning to get to know. Loss has consumed every second of my life for two years. It's disgusting, it's painful, and it's unfair.

However, when I step back from that, in a moment of self-thought, when the pain subsides for just a brief moment, I realize how damn lucky I am.

Why, you may ask?

Because I had them to lose. I had the moments, the glances, the embraces, the emotions, the shared tears, the shared stories, the shared life. I had those things in my possession. I had them on my heart. And I still do. I have every single one of them tucked closely in a compartment in my heart I've recently designated to loss.

And it's okay. I know that no matter what or who has left my life, I can still hold tight to it, hold tight to the memories, and it's ok to think about it. It's ok to feel sad about the loss. But it's also okay to embrace the joy that every single one of those people brought to my life, even if for only a moment.

So, yes, I've lost a lot of people. Some more recent than others, some in the past, but I had them to lose. Loss is only as painful as you let it become, I suppose. It's only as painful as you choose to make it. When the loss is new, it hurts, it hurts like hell, but as I lay here writing this, I'm comforted by those memories and I'm smiling. A big, goofy, warm, mouth closed smile. The kind you can feel inside your heart.

And I do this because I've loved. I've lived. I've given myself and gotten some wonderful things in return. And now, it's time to move on. It's time to find new people to share myself with, because albeit slowly, I want that. I want new memories. I need that.

I'm hard to get to know, I'll admit that. I have walls. Deep, soul-binding walls that I cling to in desperation. Pain comes naturally to me, I've lived with it my whole life. But trust and faith, those things do not. I'm good at being the best friend. I'm good at being the shoulder, the rock, the safety net when you fall. But one thing I'm not good at, is letting people in. I give you enough to let you know it's okay to be here with me, but I never give fully. Ever. Not anymore. I'm trying though, trying to learn how to trust again. As I make progress, I'm pulled back, but I still try every single day. If you're patient, if you tell me and make me believe you whole-heartedly that you will never leave, I'll believe you. I'll trust you, and the world will be ours. That's a promise.

Are you up for the challenge?