Saturday, June 20, 2009

Life & Times: The Epilogue, Part I

While every passing day is easier than the last, I don't think I'll ever entirely get over Jessica. Maybe it's just me being possessive, but reading tweets about her going to Northbrook (to see Mr. Fratboy) remains just as much of a kick in the groin as it did three months ago.

Falling in (and out of) love.

While a handful of my friends are engaged or married, I don't really think I know too many people who are, or have been in love. Perhaps I'm wrong. Maybe it's just that no one talks about it, or simply have not recognized it.

But friends, I have been in love. Once. I don't know if it was with the "right" person, but I am sure that I was in love.

Maybe someday I will fall in love with someone else, and the love I knew with aforementioned previous lover will seem petty. I am no longer in love with said individual however, because she is no longer a part of my life; at least not on a regular basis. It's hard to be in love with someone you don't see or at least talk to regularly, especially when that someone has moved on, or at least pretended to do so.

I do still love her, but not the way I love my friends or family. When you can no longer feel the reciprocation of your love, you begin to love much more... er, passively. It is equivalent to the love one might have for a deceased relative.

What you really miss is what you once took for granted. There comes a point in nearly every meaningful romantic relationship when the spark fizzles out. Cliche, yes. But, it's human nature to become "comfortable" with someone over time.

It is a precious gift, almost a virtue to hold the ability to reignite the spark. Over the course of nearly five years, in your our early twenties, we reignited this spark many times: some obvious and intentional, some more abstract and intangible.

She was almost always more emotionally more mature than me. This does not change the way I feel for her. And there were times where I was ready to move to the next level and she was not.

As I type, I am listening to Wilco...

Distance has a way of making love understandable

I have yet to figure out why this is true, but I can tell you that it is. It's kind of a paradox. Distance makes the heart grow fonder...?

It may have just been a coincidence that our relationship fell apart when we were finally together geographically. But trouble always seemed to find us when we were within a half hour drive of each other.

I always told her she deserved better, and one day she would come to realize what a jerk I was. Maybe it was my inferiority complex or a self-fulfilling prophecy, but that one day came. And while it did feel good to say I told you so (I'm sick, I know), the heartache burns on.

She gave me so many chances. The one opportunity I had to give her a second chance, I took. And I got burned.

The downward spiral of my thoughts has finally subsided. I no longer wonder "where did I go wrong?"
I suppose I have reached the stage of acceptance. I am not even holding out hope for another future with her. We had what we had and the likeliness of us getting back together is unknown. But I am okay with that.

Meanwhile, I'm not looking for a replacement. I don't need nor do I want another Jess right now. Sure I miss the companionship and the love, but I don't need a crutch right now, like she was for me for so long.

I have my friends and my family, which is nice, but more importantly I have myself back. For so long, I was not me, I was just the other half of her. I am still in the process of dusting all of the relationship dirt off, but every day I see more of myself, my real self. And while at times it is shocking and confusing, deep down it feel good and right.

I still miss something. That may never go away. But letting go and moving on is part of life. So, I'll keep on truckin'. One day at a time... the only way to really live life right now.