The cave we fear to enter holds the treasure we seek. Also a dragon. What does it all mean? Something! Maybe.
With all the red flags, you’re basically skiing a downhill slalom through hell, and the breakup is a gold medal. The ability to avoid predators before you become prey is a proven winner, so bend your knees and mind the trees, because a cougar’s been stalking you. Like, even though she hasn’t done anything to you. Can’t a leopard take a walk by herself without being accused of hunting? Not really, no.
What you used to spend with them you spend some other way. Hiding in your bed from the world or lunging for a hasty replacement. Those are options. You could also be meditating, reading, learning about why you make such idiotic choices and how to not; literally every other option is still available.
Why didn’t you return my text(s)? Honestly who does that? Not a person I want to be with. I want someone who respects me no matter how much I disrespect them. But wait, maybe I was too hasty, I’ll give you a call. I’m sorry I said that. What I meant was no thank you, please, you’re blocking my peace.
The drain on your adrenals, your emotional resources, the frustration is finally gone, and with it the refuelling station for sugary feels, the familiar and cloying security, the cuddling and intimacy you came to depend upon. But as coffee is not a substitute for sleep, your flat confidence can’t be replaced with spare attention. Which brings us to:
Being in love is literally having a chemical dependency. It’s also a high the rest of life can’t really compare to; no mountain summitted or snorted, no gold medal or investment, no corporate merger brokered, nothing compares to the lovers whose love is a stable, sizzling circuit. If you’ve had it, you’ve lived long enough, if you’ve still got it, you won’t live long enough to have had enough.
You can brush your teeth alone, stretch out in the bed alone, shower alone, ask yourself insightful questions to consider the unexplored depths of your character alone, and post to Facebook about how #blessed #grateful you are for your awesome job and great friends and #lifegoals without anyone giving a shit or calling you on it. #airhugstomyself
Especially if it was rough at the end, if you were like two babies banging pans at one another or starting snowball fights in a nuclear winter, remember all the times you totally understood what they were saying and agreed or were fascinated by their stories, because these were invaluable training hours you logged towards your human pilot license. So this one crashed, okay, fine. Playback the black box and trace back where you lost connection with the control tower.
You feel stagnant and want to mix things up a bit, so you’ll go vamping in the forest and learn you’re the source of it. A cicada shedding its skeleton, a flower blooming, a frog freezing and thawing. Death is the beginning of something unimaginable to come. This is like that but you’re still alive. More.
I am the hermit in the garden
And the devourer of grandeur
I am the everlasting father
And the black eyed panther
I am the font of golden blood
I am the poison river
I am the son of vultures
And patron saint of lovers
I could well entertain you
And your drooling others
I am the great red dragon
I am your station wagon
I am the arrow of the sun
And the demonic legion
I am the final plague
And all the purest ether
I will intoxicate you
I will consume your liver