Tag: lifechanges

Breaking Open.

Writing about 2018 and going into 2019.

There are some years that break your heart.

Then there are years that break your heart open.

This year broke my heart open.

Sometimes you love someone who doesn’t love you back. Sometimes you never receive the apology you think you deserve. Sometimes you wake up and life chews you up and spits you out before you even get to start your breakfast taco.

Sometimes a person you trusted, disappoints you or burns the bridge of trust. Sometimes you don’t get picked. Sometimes the thank you never comes. Sometimes you get overlooked. Sometimes pain you thought you got over or you buried bubbles to the surface. These things you buried, they took root and grew – into things you maybe weren’t exactly ready for. And you face them.

You don’t get to know.

You don’t get to know the whys or the whens. So, you make your way through the only way you know how, graceful some-days and like a train-wreck on the other days. You live your way through it. You grow your way through it.

So, I stand away.

Better than I was before, I think.

Despite all of the things I thought unimaginable and hard to get through.

I don’t know the whos or the whats or the hows or whens or whys of 2019. But it’s coming anyway. We’re never really ready for it, are we? As much as we plan and wish and hope and dream and fantasize – life never turns out how you think it will.

–S.

Even though we didn’t make it, I still feel the same.

From 2014.

I know that we usually say I love you after we play-fight or someone brings up a topic that is still too fresh to joke about, but in every moment, serious or comical, I love you with my whole heart.

The beginning of this summer, at least for now, will be the last we will spend together.

As the days near your departure, I am full and I am hollow.

I am full of inside jokes, laughter, snippets in time, late night adventures, songs, embarrassing moments, proud moments, drives around the city, dances downtown, all-nighters pulled for assignments, the million little pieces that comprise our friendship.

I am hollow because I won’t be able to look at you across from the table at a restaurant and speak to you solely using eye contact. I am hollow because in your presence I am home. I have found shelter. I have found comfort. Life seems scarier to take on without you being a ten minute drive away.

Although we have only known each other for two years, I feel that our friendship has weathered the test of time in lives before and after this one.

I see us deep in the country at the age of five, collecting lightening bugs in mason jars and counting how long their light will last one Mississippi two. I see us at the age of eleven trying to drive an old beat-up truck and running it into a creek. I see us at the age of fifteen running away and deciding that we would live out of the bed of that same truck. I see us at the age of eighty-two at the nursing home ogling the ass of the tall, dark, and handsome nurse.

I am forever changed because of our time together. I hope in the future that we do get that apartment or house together that we always talked about, and even if fate wants us to always be separated by miles as our lives head in different directions, I want you to find comfort in the fact that I always carry your heart with me and when I feel the breeze against my face on a hot Texas day, or see the lights of the city late at night, I see two girls in a truck, laughing and speeding away.

I’ll be seeing you,

–S.