What to do?!?

I have it all. Brains, beauty, a Cal education, a house of my own, a decent relationship with my parents, a commitment to my own health, strong faith, and the greatest group of friends any human could desire. I’m dating again. I’m crushing on someone again. I’m partying and exercising again. My life is exactly how it should be, a year after it all started to come apart.

But I miss the one person who has truly broken my heart. I miss his friendship. I miss knowing he thought the world of me at one point in time. I miss his touch.

I don’t know how not to.

I still cry

Maybe it’s hormones. Maybe it is because the Bears lost their second game in a row. Maybe it’s the beer I had Friday night or the margarita I had with Saturday dinner. Maybe it’s because my day got off to a horrible start or I didn’t do my longer run or because I didn’t get to enjoy my mom’s cooking for the umpteenth week or because it was very windy all day.
Or, despite the hours of therapy, reflection, and prayer, and my gradual acceptance of the harsh reality of his rejection, I still miss him.

“Sad hours seem long.”

What to do or what to believe

For the last several weeks, I have been in exile. Not voluntary, though as time has gone on, I have grown to value the aloneness and the silence. Ever since I got home from Nashville, I have not spoken to Soldier. It’s been strange, to make a huge understatement, because he was someone I used to talk daily during the awful winter(and that had nothing to do with cold weather or rain), someone I professed my love to in the spring, and, for all intents and purposes, despite the two thousand and three hundred plus miles between us, the man in my life for a few months.

After my mind crumbled into shards, I was left to put my life back together. In that time, my circle of friends has proven to be loyal and sincere, putting in hours of phone calls, text messages, and visits as I grappled with losing Soldier and facing my new diagnosis. I know now that my friends are true, that I am never alone, that I am loved and lovable. But losing Soldier, if only temporarily, has caused me great pain. There isn’t a day I do not think of him. There are very few days I do not cry.

He has not shut me out completely. He answers text messages now and then. He has agreed that I can write him letters. For the most part, I have felt like a ghost. I have felt like I stopped existing to him the minute we hung up the phone that July night, when the harvest moon sadly watched.

Friday night, I was high as a kite, still bubbling over with glee after watching Avenue Q,having braved my recent injuries to trudge Frankenstein style into a BART train and into the City, which still fills me with such joy. I was icing my battered limbs when my phone chimed. “Who in the hell would text message me at midnight? That’d be hella funny if it was Soldier.” So many times I had wished he would think of me in the early morning, like he used to do so many months ago. Then I checked the phone and read his message. My stomach dropped several stories. I cried bitterly for about five minutes. I wiped my tears, thanked Mama Mary and Jesus, and went to sleep.

Does my heart, hopeful and strong, know the truth?