And, all at once, I was nothing.
I have, more than once, likened myself to a ghost and this place, without hallways to lurk, was my haunt. Windowless, wall-less, without doors, and eyeless. I spent a lot of time feeling dead inside, or maybe rotting, and letting that necrosis spit and spill out. I spoke out of hurt and acted on loneliness. I've said so many things I regret. I'm sorry for that.
It was my birthday, the 2nd of December. I turned 30. I'm older now that I've ever been, older than I ever thought I'd be. I've mused about taking my own life, but reasoned that I'll die on my own. Each year is just toe-testing the waters of oblivion anyway. Why hasten my return to the atomic when it's going to happen whether or not I will it.
But this year was different. It's like I wait all year for my birthday! People, friends, came out of the wood work to wish me well. I had no idea people liked me. I spent so much time hating life while trying to find reasons and ways to love myself that I missed out on the growth that focus encouraged. I was counting stones on a path to make sure of my footing and ignored the garden I was nurturing. I feel warm.
My co-workers pulled together and got me a $100 bottle of scotch knowing that I've never had a drop of alcohol in my life, knowing I have no intention to change that, knowing that I only wanted it because it was a tie-in to my favorite movie. I have people like that in my life.
And it kills me.
(That's a hat trick! I've been a ghost, I've been dying, and I've been killed. But I ain't dead yet.)
It kills me that I didn't realize the resounding support structure that's been built around me, that maybe I had a hand in building, and I wasn't aware. I thought I was building walls, or a way out, and I was making connections.
I want to cry. A tear for everyone who cares and everyone who dared to care and for everyone that can't care because they lost that dare.
And sometimes I feel so cold that I shiver, but I'm not cold at all. I'm just holding onto this loss. It's a defining characteristic. I navigate my history using trauma like landmarks and I've missed so much going that route. I realize now that there's more to loss than the ones that got away. There are the ones you let go. There are the ones you push away, the ones you never held on to at all, the ones you got away from. There's more to losing than not getting what you want, and that's where I got lost, because there's more to lose than who you want.
I leave here a lot and I come back even more, but I'm breaking that habit. I'm here to see if there's anything worth taking with me when I go. There is. Some things are bolted down, though, and I'll have to leave them here.
