yobech505

She keeps apologizing for hurting me.  Yeah, I hurt.  The heartaches fracture my sleep, the dreams keep me attached to someone who needs to be in the past.

But apologies?  For that, no.  I’m a big boy.  I did not go into this whole thing with my eyelids glued together.

I would accept apologies, though.  For the broken promises and the plans for the future that will never transpire, tossed into the trash like the burnt eggs in the pot.  You know; the things I anticipated with so much joy.

The camping trip together to Shenandoah will never happen.  I will go, that is certain, but not with her, which is the way I originally planned my next adventure to the Blue Ridge.

Playing  music is out now too.  It was FUN! What a pain.  Now I have to find another  strong voice who can harmonize.  And listen and learn.  We did one hell of a job with Poliahu.  And The Rose was good too, and would only get better.  I was even learning the words to Wicked music.  Bummer.

At one time, she wanted to go west with me.  Well, guess what, it ain’t happnin’  (I am going without you!)

Apologize for not letting me stay Thursday night like we agreed.

The salad went bad before I could finish it.  I made it for two! Apologize for that.

Apologize for telling me “I love you” when she no longer did.

And I, too will apologize.

I’m sorry I couldn’t make her love me.  I’m sorry I was such a threat to her sanity.  I apologize for being in love with her and her not being able to handle it or even want it.  I am sorry for the added stress I put on her life.

Should I apologize for being born in 1949 instead of 1969?

I’m sorry I came into her life and just messed it up, worse than it already was.  I guess I just have that effect. Maybe next time I won’t be as loving, caring, a listener, supportive.  Maybe next time I just won’t give a damn.  No. That isn’t me.

No.  No apologies necessary.  From her, or from me.  Life’s lessons, learned, and so often, the hard way.  Not a need for I’m sorry.

Her life will go on.  So will mine.  My ego cries out that she may not realize how much emptier it will be without me, but that is not my problem any more.  She made the choice.   Mine is empty now, but that, too, will be filled one day.

Maybe, with love, you should never have to say you’re sorry.  I don’t know.  It’s probably up to the individual, I suppose.    Still…

I over think too much.  Or I did. But I am so proud of myself, because I overlooked imperfections.  I went for the heart of a person, not their shape, appearance, or even the baggage they carried.  I managed to delve deeper, and saw that the beauty of an individual is not in the skin and bone, not in the hair, the face, the smile, not in the shapes and physical features, but inside the soul, the spirit.

I feel more mature that I did before.

It made things more alive, less inhibited; in the way I acted, responded, and enjoyed what was there.

It doesn’t remove the blinds from love.  But it does make the time when the love is there much better.

Of course she loved me and I don’t doubt that she firmly believed she was in love with me.  At least for a while she did. She wasn’t.  Infatuated, perhaps.  In love with the newness, the adventures that we had, the risks we took, the sex; more than likely. But not in love with me.  I’ve had too many experiences in my life, and have learned so much about love, dealt with way too much heartbreak and have been in similar situations enough times to know.

She didn’t have the capacity for it and wasn’t emotionally prepared, at least not at that time and not for me.  I was a kick she needed.  Re-enforcement.  A bad previous relationship (or two) and here I come.  Self assured and self assuring, willing to upload the things she needed to hear, wanted to hear, putting her on a pedestal that she may not have been on before. She absorbed it, took it in.  It was an ego boost, a morale builder, a shot of self confidence that she had lost, or, perhaps, never had and desperately needed.  And I was likely the most mature relationship she’s ever been in. A stepping stone for her, a lesson she needed to learn?  Probably.  Glad to oblige.

The damnation of the whole thing was that I did fall in love with her.  Oops.  Bad idea?  Of course.  But I had no control.  Do we ever?   I know some who, when the feeling starts to truly creep in, they run like hell.  I’ve never been able to do that.  I love being in love.  Always have. I’m a junkie for it.  So I tend to jump in, unabashed and without much hesitation. (or foresight for that matter)  Good way to hurt myself.  And damned if I don’t.

So, once again, I have to go through the withdrawal pains of losing a relationship.  The chemical defenses jumped into action immediately.  The amygdala and hippocampus, the emotional aspects of the brain, have kicked in.  My psychobiological centers, ever changing, have gone into protective mode,   Unfortunately, they open the door to anxiety, sleeplessness and weakened biological defenses when they do.  Hopefully, my natural opiates, endorphins, will refresh themselves quickly.

She’s gone.  Stepped out of my life a lot more easily than she stepped into it. So I have to fold the pages of  what was another damn good chapter of my auto biography.  And I’m closing the cover myself, putting it on the shelf of my used book store and forgetting about it until it collects so much dust that the pages fade to yellow and crumble.

The memories won’t go away.  I have two others that are similar, that bring a recall, of being in love, to the forefront.  But the chapters my mind wrote don’t get opened any more.  To protect my psyche, I repress them, stay away from the archives and the reminders. So I add her name to the list that will linger for my lifetime. Only two others there, but now they have company.

Page 3 preview. I remember a book I read years ago called Love Story.  A line in it, “…love means never having to say you’re sorry…”  I disagree.  Love means finding it easy, necessary and even desirous to say ‘I’m sorry.’  It also means we’re willing to accept when others say it, without condition and without expectation.