That's the chorus of a song playing in a cafe I'm sitting in much farther from my home than I would normally travel during the week because seeing anywhere I went with her makes me cry.
I'm in the strangest, most torturous arrangement of my life.. no, I didn't get married. I'm giving her time, while only sort-of understanding what that means.
What it means to me is feeling a stinging I hedged myself against for the greater part of my mid-20's. It means suddenly seeing the fruits of my distaste for people staring me in the face in a city where everyone is the best of friends or acquaintances. It means dealing with uncertainty, that nasty little bugger that makes me squirm as I sit on my couch trying to hold on to some remnant of my job or pulls on my brain through the wine haze when I'm trying to doze off with that toy gorilla my mom gave me.
It COULD mean self-discovery, and mending, and "soul-searching" and those those other nice little ideals. But nice little ideals are always more elusive. Right now I don't have the gusto to deal with them -- just maybe to take myself by the hand again. The one hand, for better or worse, that's always there.
And at least that hand kicked some bitch's ass last weekend:
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