losing my way

as usual. sometimes the bloody pen is more than i can handle. and today, it cut deep. i sit here, with these new strangers, and wonder who they are. clearly they are mine, they are truth. but sometimes, i just don't want to see it. sure, when it's all zen, it's great. but there is still a lot of angst in me. that won't go away.

and then there are the unfinished stories i have yet to conclude. the answers i know but won't commit to in writing. the way i heard her speak and thought of you and finally said,

enough.

that's all there, waiting to be written. and i just don't know that i'm up to it now. i want to curl up in a ball and sleep. that tells me, i'm not ready yet to confront that story. to write that ending.

but it's over, it's been over for so long. you were never here. i never had you. why do i struggle to release that which i've never possessed?

same old story. so tired of it.

but last night in pilates, i was curled up in a ball and heard my heart say,

it's time. time for the good to come.

and i just sighed in relief. i knew it was right. that i'm ready.

the absent men, the nongivers are the ones i'm not accepting now.

yes, i do have loose ends to tie up, but soon, they will be bound.

and i will be free.

i am free now.

free at last.