The Fire

In all the parts of self-growth and discovery, being honest with yourself has to continually be the most difficult piece. It never gets any easier. It always evades you, even when you want to see it. Even when you open yourself to it. Even when you’re asking for it. And then half the time it blindsides you.

I was walking along Highway 37 last night. There were hundreds of other people walking with me. We were escaping. The hills around us were on fire. It was closing in on us all, hundreds of us shutting down the highway without a car in sight. My mother was in front of me when I realized the fires were going to engulf us. I asked her what we were supposed to do, and she moved forward into the crowd and gently let go of my hand. I was alone. I felt a deep sadness knowing my time was over. I pulled out my cell phone to text my ex. I told him I would never see him again, but I wanted him to know what a deep and aching love for him I still had. That feeling of needing to touch but you’re just too far away to reach. It’s an inexplicable sadness that aloneness creates. It’s shattering. It’s so quiet. I couldn’t tell if my text was going through.

After I awoke I laid in bed this morning for a while realizing that my relationship was over. I spent all day trying to feel anything. I can’t tell if I’m heartbroken over the idea of us not ending up together or whether I’m actually facing being alone now for the first time, even though it always feels like the first time and I’m always still just running away in some form or another. I convince myself I’m doing the work and then it hits me from the back. I never see it coming. There’s been a numbness to my sadness these last few weeks. To my life, really. Am I ready to move on? My life here has become a small blossom of beauty, but mostly I feel adrift. Always at sea.

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