No One Likes Emo

Don’t get me wrong, I get it.  But you need to let it go.  I know you sit and think about how you were when you were together and how marvelous it was.  You sit and replay over and over how good you were together; the way they made you feel, the secrets you shared.  Every soul shattering iota of passion, warmth and caring that cascades over you when you sit and dwell on the memories.

What you need to realize is that it is all bullshit.  They are not that person.  They are not the one you want.  What you want is the idea of them in your head, not who they really are.  Because if they were that person, they would be here, and they’re not.

You need to get over it.  Stop sitting there everyday torturing yourself with their memory.  You’re not a child anymore.  You need to put the past in the past.  I didn’t say it wouldn’t hurt and it won’t be easy but you need to stop whining.  Everyone gets it.  We’ve all been there.  But we had the decency not to skulk around for an indeterminate amount of time.  So drop your balls and grow up already.

I can guarantee that if they aren’t in your life right now, they aren’t thinking about you.  

Time Wounds All Heals

There are those moments that are so overwhelming they cannot help themselves but to induce a deep state of mourning. Often it is nothing so tragic an event to warrant it, but a simple phrase or gesture, so seemingly benign as to completely and utterly discombobulate. Often I find myself without the wherewithal to go about business as usual. And so I retract and make myself small, an easily overlooked nuance.

This is not to say I go off into some deep dark cave and commence to wail about all the things I’ve lost, rather to the contrary. I find myself in these instances more often than not going about business as usual. A state which is not indicative I care less, just that I retract mentally and continue about my daily routines in a manner which lends to benevolence and commonality so as not to draw suspicions. I find it easier to process in a style that most would find, and have on the occasion I allow the observation, to find it jerky and to frighteningly out of sorts. I can move through the five stages of grief in as little as a day.

I am tragically adept at something no one should become so skilled at.

It is something I have come to deal with. Having skill sets no one wants. The irony in this is a priceless gem. Because the skills no one wants are almost always the ones they need – or will at some point, and so my advice is a hot commodity. I have the ability to see both sides of the issue clearly and argue the points for and against it. This lends logic to passion and passion to logic. Thus creating a conundrum of profound proportions.

And so I sit here, staring at this statement. A simple phrase which has no bearing upon my life or the rules and morals by which I gauge my everyday self –and yet the impact is severe. I am so unsure of what to do when I read this, the simple insecurity is a catastrophe in and of itself, and in the end the most I can do is hold steady and find myself amused. A heartrending find which no action I may take will undo or remedy and the best thing to do is merely ride it out. Breakwater.

I would like to tell the person that they are wrong or that they do not know of which they speak. However, I have no grounds to stand upon and thus no judgment to lend. So I find myself without a voice or a port in the storm. Time wounds all heals and if I wait just a bit longer the hemorrhage will ebb and dawdle or cease. And I have come to find I no longer mind the bleeding.