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To all lost friends
Nov. 14th, 2009 11:56 pmI really have missed you.
And tonight was brilliant.
I realised so much about us both, stuff that should have been obvious years ago, but perhaps it is only now that I am ready to see it.
I'm not in love with you any more. And I'm not in love with her any more either. Isn't that huge? Isn't that glorious?
For a while I thought my broken heart would always mean I was still in love with her. But somehow, tonight, a little bit of me that was reflected back at me as I sat talking to you was the bit that showed me the truth; no love.
I can't wait to see you again in February. I'm sorry we've lost so much time over the past few years - I think a lot of it came from how she changed me; but I know there was a girl changing you too. We've both arrived somewhere better. I'm glad that we are in each others future.
You're the keeper of half my memories. I forget how much I forget. Then you tell someone a story about something I did, or something we did together and the little portraits you paint release memories I didn't know I had. Sometimes the story is as new to me as the person you are telling it to - I wish my memory was better, I really do, but it is such a relief to know that you, and a few other people, are keeping close guardianship of my youthful excesses, my triumphs and the many and various ways in which we got to this point.
And tonight was brilliant.
I realised so much about us both, stuff that should have been obvious years ago, but perhaps it is only now that I am ready to see it.
I'm not in love with you any more. And I'm not in love with her any more either. Isn't that huge? Isn't that glorious?
For a while I thought my broken heart would always mean I was still in love with her. But somehow, tonight, a little bit of me that was reflected back at me as I sat talking to you was the bit that showed me the truth; no love.
I can't wait to see you again in February. I'm sorry we've lost so much time over the past few years - I think a lot of it came from how she changed me; but I know there was a girl changing you too. We've both arrived somewhere better. I'm glad that we are in each others future.
You're the keeper of half my memories. I forget how much I forget. Then you tell someone a story about something I did, or something we did together and the little portraits you paint release memories I didn't know I had. Sometimes the story is as new to me as the person you are telling it to - I wish my memory was better, I really do, but it is such a relief to know that you, and a few other people, are keeping close guardianship of my youthful excesses, my triumphs and the many and various ways in which we got to this point.
