This is a post I wrote April 13, a few days before I broke up with The Masseuse. I didn’t like how I felt. It wasn’t all his fault. I placed a lot of pressure on that new relationship for many reasons. So three weeks later, here it is.
I feel the anxiety in my body right now. He didn’t text good morning ya’ll. That’s why it’s there.
He didn’t text good morning.
I was anxious this morning upon waking, too early, hours earlier than I needed or wanted to wake up.
Spinning on different ideas that are a stress to me right now
spin spin spin.
So much of it came back to The Masseuse though.
A memory came to me from when I was five; it’s how I was feeling this morning.
I peeled open the layers of the flower bud to make it bloom. Company was coming and I wanted the flowers to be pretty for my mom. She may have even lamented that they weren’t blooming yet. I could see that. I wanted to fix it maybe. But I’m really not sure about that. I know for sure I wanted those flowers to be open and full and blooming now damnit. So I opened them.
Didn’t work out too well as you might imagine. It fucked them all up. They couldn’t bloom properly. They were just limp there.
My mom was livid because I didn’t stop with one for some reason. I did it to a bunch of them. Yeah I was a little shit. Why didn’t I stop? Did I take pleasure in the destruction? Did I have hope it would be different THIS time? The last one sounds like me. I’ve written about how I’ve approached relationships with a half full glass perspective, hmmm yeahhh I can live with that half glass.
Why am I checking inside to see “what I can live with”?
I was laying there this morning mulling what’s happened over the last week, how it doesn’t feel good, how sad I’ve felt and I know I should cut it loose probably.
But I see the potential in it, the possible bloom and I keep thinking if I give it some space, some sun, some water it will be something beautiful.
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