On love and loss and what remains

          I feel like I’ve been away for a long time, selfishly wrapped inside a cocoon of my own making, tending to stubborn injuries.
          I was in love, and then I wasn’t anymore, and the small bright world that held my life and which had become pale and silent had broken then, into crumbled misshapen pieces. Looking back on these past six months, I see now that I have essentially been in grief – not because I still wanted to be with him, he who had for so long made me dizzy with happiness, but because I no longer did: I grieved for what might have been, and for what was; for the lost feelings that had once felt like they could never be lost; for the cold, immutable fact that there are things in life that cannot and will not change, no matter how hard you work and no matter how much you want them to be different.
          That last one is particularly difficult to come to terms with because it applies to so many things in life, and because it requires nothing, but takes everything. And as it’s taking, it stands behind a wall of stone, quiet and still, unmoved by anger and untouched by despair. The word, indifference comes to mind, but it doesn’t feel like indifference exactly. It just feels true, and when everything is calm and clear, it almost feels gentle in how simple it is. Soothing, even. It is the cosmic equivalent of someone saying to you when you’re in pain, “That’s how life is sometimes, so learn to live with it,” which is as kind a thing to say as it is cruel.  >> Continue reading..