The Consequences of Things

A thing happened. A thing I didn’t like. Didn’t want. No one got hurt (physically). But it happened and I wish it hadn’t. And now I think I need to remove someone from my life.

I feel….icky. I don’t know how else to describe it. I feel forced to a place I didn’t want to be. I want to just shut down. I didn’t sleep well last night.

Nightmares and memories and puking out anger and resentment and confusion that’s been soaking in bile in my gut for 33 years.

I have spent the last 30 hours fighting back tears. The kind of tears that start in your stomach, getting bigger as they climb to your eyes, welling up with emotions from every part of your mind – the coffered, hidden corners and brightly lit falsehoods – and then pour out without warning. Without a care of where their acid rage may fall.  The kind of tears that don’t take kindly to being dammed. Tears that have been waiting for me to give them heed for 33 years.

He was important to me once. He was the familiar place I reached for in the loneliness. It was always him, no matter who else was in my life. Like a security blanket, I just needed to know he was there. Messages from me at 2am “I know you’re sleeping. I miss you. Hope you have a good day.” The answer would come the next day. “Miss you, too, doll. Take care.” That would be enough for months. No other contact needed. He was a part of home. A place to hold onto while I steadied myself from whatever was trying to knock me off my mountain. He doesn’t feel steady anymore. I need to let him go. But I want him to be my blanket again. That was my constant from before everything got messy. He cradled me when it was just a nice thing. Before I needed it to hold me together. He knew me when I was only a little broken. He still loved me after my pieces began to get worn and didn’t fit together so well anymore.

Things happen. People come and go.

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