Dear Old Love

So its been a year since you happened. Twelve whole months have passed since I met you, and though we’ve spent a majority of that time apart I would lie if I said I don’t sometimes miss you. Just a year ago, my stomach was aflutter. I couldn’t stop smiling at the thought of you- your warm touch, your comforting embrace, your sweet kisses. I still hear echoes of your voice from our daily calls, resonating in the corners of my mind as I lay in bed trying to fall asleep. You were my first challenge, I met my match. I wanted to stop playing the game, in hopes that maybe something real might emerge. Alas, insecurity and uncertainty kept me going in the same old habits, same tricks and techniques to restore my crumbling ego. Maybe it was the distance that separated us, maybe we were at different stages in our lives, maybe I couldn’t thaw the cold exterior fast enough to show a warm heart. Maybe.

Although the wounds have healed, a scar remains. Instead of being a reminder of past pain, its a sign of inspiration. Regardless of prevalent numbness, remains an intact heart still capable of bearing emotions- compassion and hope, sadness and joy, love and pain. That in itself is worth the disappointments, the turmoil, and the suffering that comes as a part of love. It’s worth living knowing that maybe I’ll feel the same with a better match, my match. Inspiration to live in turn is worth writing for: searching for that person, or maybe persons that will irrevocably change me without notice. Its time for new chapters to be written of the long journey ahead, with pages filled with new characters, new encounters, and new possibilities alongside the promise of tomorrow.

With that being said, I bid adieu dear old love.


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