A shift in a friendship. A lover lost. A lover turning toward another, turning toward her with a different quality of interest that he never held for me, and that I had craved deeply. Wanting to rise above the ego hurt of it, the humiliation of being put aside for another, yet knowing all of that hurt is created by my jacked-up monkey mind and doesn't have to keep scraping me raw if I can learn how to dive deeper into the healthier parts of my mindself. After two years of daily communication, tens of thousands of emails, I am accustomed to his electronic presence in my life. It has sustained me, I have let myself grow dependent upon it. The monthly visits, across water and borders, added an exciting, tangible, and very physical layer to our connection, but it was the daily wishes of good morning and good night, the sharing of what we were cooking for dinner, what was going on at work, that became an essential part of my well being.
I have pulled back for several days, needing to cry and rage and live inside my hurt for awhile so that I could then take it off like a heavy coat you take off after you come inside. Because here, within the warmth of home, I know that the things that I think I need from him are already right here. I know that I am still his friend.
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