At 4:30 in the morning most roads are clear. When the sun rises and the light bounces off the mountains it’s hard to think of a better way to wake up.
The trip down was supposed to take 6.5 hours. I got there in 5.5. I swear I went nearly the speed limit the whole time.
It was good to trust my instincts and go. The drive itself was worth it more than anything. I needed to find out if this was about love or lust and proceed accordingly. Either way I felt fear. I was afraid that if it was love, my life was about to get incredibly difficult. I was afraid that if it was about lust I had just wasted a good amount of time, energy, and money to figure that out.
But nothing was wasted necessarily.
Of course, the outcome wasn’t exactly what I wanted, but more than anything it was what I needed.
I needed to realize that it would never work. That there were too many flaws in the whole idea.
Maybe I went there all along subconsciously knowing I was going to look for these flaws because I needed to get over it.
Maybe it was always the logical choice.
Because if I didn’t go I wouldn’t be able to move on.
And now I can. Even though it is still sad. Though, not entirely.
I’m more relieved than anything. No longer in the state of in-between.
Back to the game, but I’m not jumping in full-force. Re-focusing my energy of my self–my body and mind.
Find a favorite yoga class to go to once a week–body.
Write at length every day–mind.
Boys come last.
I’m obviously searching for connections with other humans; but I fear I’ve been wanting it too badly. Must give up and allow it just to be. To arrive organically. And if it never does I guess I’ll just Emily Dickinson-it the rest of my life.