Reality Check

I think the connection that Evan and me have scares me sometimes. Scares me in the "this is too good to be true" kind of way.

Sometimes I feel like I'm going to wake up one morning, see Corey sleeping next to me, and realize it was just a dream.

It also scares me in the physical aspect of losing him. That we are so much a match for each other, that life will take him away from me, and I'll lose him. Not the breaking up or leaving for another state kind of loss, but actually, physically dying.

Short of family, I have never felt so scared about losing someone like this before. Not my close friends, not even Corey. It was always something that I grew to accept as an "if it's ment to happen, I will have to cope". I always saw myself in grief about it, but then moving on in time.

This is something that actually scares me. I feel like we match so well that if I lost him, I would never find someone like him again. It would never be the same. I would spend forever looking for someone that had his charm and way of words around me. I would hold people to impossible standards, standards that he embodied and surpassed so easily. I would never be satisfied.

And the worst part about it, is that he would be gone. Gone. Forever. I would never be able to kiss him, hold him, talk to him. It just would no longer exist.

....

This is why I don't like having days off with nothing to do.

I think too much. I'm quite the pessimist.

Angels

There is an angel sleeping in my bed. ♥

Cardboard Boxes

There is a hole in the middle of my wall. Between all the pictures of my cats. A blank space. Nothing that screams your immediate attention, but is blaringly obvious that it used to be home to something. A picture of me and him. A picture of what we built together.

The picture frame is now on my desk, stripped of the photo in question, bare and empty.

Over the course of the last month, I noticed myself slowly putting his things away, for various reasons, room cleanings, afterthoughts, emotion.

First it was the flowers, which I angrilly threw in the garbage. Then it was the clothes I bought him but he never wore, then his drawings, the stuffed animals he bought me when I was sick.

There are still things in my room. Bits and pieces that people don't realize are there, but that I can still see.

The crystal rose he gave me for Valentine's Day last year, that I broke because I'm so clumsy. The Hello Kitty musical jewlery box under my bathroom sink. A necklace from the "Believe" show at Seaworld.

It will take me a while to finally pack them all away. And even when I do, there will always be that one thing laying around, behind a stack of textbooks and electrical wires. That one thing, that I will touch for the first time in years and still be able to tell you the exact day I got it.

He has that same effect on me. Though it's over, it's nothing that I can pack up overnight. And no matter how much time I spend doing it, there will always be a piece of him laying inside me, under all the jumble and all the tangled thoughts. That little piece I can pick up to simply reflect and rememeber.

I don't think that's a negative thing, it's just a human thing. It is a part of me, my soul, my heart. To deny the memories he gave me would be insincere. To deny the happiness he gave me, would be dishonest. Reguardless of my feelings with him, or anyone for that matter.

I feel I've grown from resentment to acceptance. Confusion to clarity. I know who I am and what I need.

I'm moving forward, stepping out. Arms outstretched, I'm flying.

I'm soaring.

Butterflies

I had so many things to write about here.

But they elude me now.