I Have Been Changed For Good.

I have a sensory memory: sounds, smells, music, temperature and humidity or a combination trigger memories.

I have an emotional memory: I don’t just remember the situation, I remember and re-experience all the emotions that go along with it. Intensely.

I just saw Wicked tonight.

Wicked was the last musical I saw with my ex- right before we split. For the last time. For real. For ever.

When Elphaba and Glinda know their parting is nigh, they sing one final song together:

“I’ve heard it said / That people come into our lives for a reason / Bringing something we must learn / And we are led /To those who help us most to grow / If we let them / And we help them in return.”

He taught me to be selfless, to love, to trust in God. I hope, hope, hope, he has something positive to say about me.

“Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better? / But because I knew you / I have been changed for good.”

Back then I knew that I’d been changed. I was afraid I’d become unable to trust, cynical and negative. I knew my resiliency and character had grown. Today, I can see how I’ve changed, both from that relationship and in the years since.

“It well may be / That we will never meet again / In this lifetime / So let me say before we part / So much of me / Is made of what I learned from you / You’ll be with me / Like a handprint on my heart / And now whatever way our stories end / I know you have re-written mine.”

I remembered the tears rolling down my cheeks the first time years ago as they rolled down again tonight. I felt the aching in my chest remembering how much I wanted to thank him for everything, the good and the bad, the friendship, the laughter and the tears. I remember the heaviness in my heart, the sorrow that we may never meet again, that I may never be ready to meet him again.

“And just to clear the air / I ask forgiveness / For the things I’ve done you blame me for / But then, I guess we know / There’s blame to share.”

A hard acknowledgement; a true phrase.

“And none of it seems to matter anymore”

We wrote the end of that chapter of our lives together. Not the ending either of us expected, but it was the ending we chose through the consequences of our actions. It was time to move on then. It was time to remember today. But, like always, tomorrow is a new day, with new light and new hope.

Sometimes I feel like I shouldn’t think about this anymore. I’m in such a different position in life now. Yet sometimes, memories and emotions come flooding back.

“Because I knew you… / I have been changed for good…”



I feel like I’ve been posting too much negativity lately. I’m not really a negative person, I think I’m just stuck a bit in life right now at the moment. Sorry. I’ll try to be more positive. For both you and me.

A Poem. Not Mine.

I’ve quoted a poem by Brittany before, I need to do it again. I came across a blog today, a young girl (well, same age as me, so maybe not so young, or maybe I think of myself as young still) who is going through a divorce. It made me think about my own past, and how, well, I don’t really think about it much anymore. Except for the days that I do think about it. In my blog perusing, I came across this poem tonight. I feel I need to share it. If I had the courage to put it in an envelope and mail it to the ex, I would. But I don’t. I always thought that one day I would write him a letter, and tell him my reflections. I don’t feel like I need to (anymore). Or maybe I don’t feel like I can. Maybe I’m not ready to. Maybe I don’t want to, because I hate it when thoughts of the past creep into my current relationship and scare the shit out of me. Not everything is a pattern, I tell myself (although I don’t know if I believe it). I don’t know. I just don’t know.

What I do know, though, is that this poem spoke truths to me just now. And so I share it with you (thanks Brittany).

If You’re Out There

If you’re out there.. somewhere.. reading this.
Know that I’m happy for you.
Know that just like I always did
I only wish the best the world has to offer for you.
Know that all of the hurt is gone.
And that even though the hurt is gone
I will never forget how it felt.
Know that I’ve forgotten the fights, and tears
the silent days, and the hurtful words
And when I think of us,
I think of the laughter,
the late nights spent on the couch testing boundaries.
The soft kisses, and lazy days.
Know that you got my heart racing,
and my blood pumping like very few before you.
And our first kiss, is still my favorite kiss.
Know that there are many things I love about you
And if the timing had been different,
maybe we would have lasted for eternity.

But you should also know…
You’re the only thing I regret.
And if I could go back and do it over again
I wouldn’t choose you twice.
And that even though the hurt is gone
I will never forget how it felt.
Such strong words; such true words. I don’t have memories of things and words, or at least many of them. I remember emotions. Emotions I never ever want to feel again. I remember feel little; feeling as if the world was around me, but I wasn’t there. I remember feeling as if I was ripped into a hundred million billion gazillion little pieces, and that no matter how much glue I used, I just couldn’t get them back into the right order. It just felt wrong. But I don’t hurt anymore; I don’t hurt because of you. I just remember. And I remember because I don’t want to experience it again.

Mixed Emotions.

I don’t know exactly what I want to write. I have a thousand little, or maybe big, emotions inside of me. All I really want to do at the moment is jump in my car and drive 845 km to see this boy that has been preoccupying my mind, my heart and all my physical desires.

It’s been a year since we first kissed. A year, yesterday. That first kiss very quickly became a first everything. I’ve never been so comfortable with anyone. Even now, if I just close my eyes and think of him, think of being next to him, with my head on his shoulders, there is this peaceful calm that comes over me. I’ve known for a long time, with an absolute assuredness, that he is something wonderful in my life.

And yet I haven’t talked to him for two weeks.

After every time we reach a new level in our un-relationship he goes MIA. Two weeks ago he met my family. He’d met some of them before, in bits and pieces here and there. This time he met everyone. Him sitting on the couch, my parents talking to him. This was followed by him meeting a lot of people I’ve grown up with. We enjoyed the night. I think about it retrospectively, and maybe I wasn’t there enough. Maybe he didn’t realize how much I loved having him there, how much I love him. I was nervous; we hadn’t seen each other for three months. Maybe he was nervous; maybe his nervous now. Maybe he didn’t actually enjoy it all; maybe he is done. Maybe he is just processing everything; maybe he isn’t processing anything.

What I know is that I can’t stop thinking about him: about how much I miss him again and want to be with him. But also, about how this pattern sucks. How it is probably a pattern that will stick forever; a pattern of non-committal. Boys? What does the boy brain say?

My brain tells me to move on. My heart tells me to give him more time.

I think about the last year. It’s been one good year. Should I take that year and move on? Should I hold out for a little while longer, maybe I can add another awesome year to it.

Just call me, dude. Just call me.


** ADDENDUM – May 31, 2011 **

I just re-read this post. Looking back, I feel I was perhaps being a little melodramatic. While I was definitely feeling all those things the day I wrote them, today, my heart is bigger than ever. It takes a little down to truly feel the up.

A Way Out.

I need a creative outlet. I feel like there is so much inside of me that is just wanting to escape. This isn’t a new feeling. I’ve always needed an outlet, but have never really found a good one. I used to run. Miles and miles. Running releases the energy, but does not release all the emotion. While I have volumes and volumes of journals kept over the years, I’ve struggled with writing. I feel that my words are often very selfish. I write about me, about my feelings, about my fears. Most people do, yes, but I feel that I do it in a very selfish way. Perhaps it is just because I haven’t yet found the right tone or medium to excrete my emotions verbally such that they will be inspiring for others. Maybe that is my problem? I’m actively seeking to inspire. Or am I? Maybe it is just because I don’t want to be inconsequential. I want someone to know that I exist. I want someone to take stock in my emotional turmoil and want to invest in calming it. I have music, scenery, poetry. Maybe I am afraid of anything less than perfection. Maybe things are just so jumble-bumbled inside of me that I absolutely have no idea where to start. How do you translate abstract into tangible? How do you channel the emotions out?