I’ve been sitting in the gray space for a few weeks now. It’s the space between what the fuck? And why? Nothing makes sense, I can’t focus. My head spins as I try to grasp a handle on everything. Admittedly grasping at straws trying to understand.
I know this space. I’ve been here before. It’s grief, it’s ugly, it’s dark and it’s so not fun. I feel it in my bones, the heaviness in my heart. The tension in my neck. The confusion in my brain.
There are moments of hope. There have been moments of joy, being around and near my framily. Friends that love me and I, them. It doesn’t take away the pain and heaviness I feel in my heart. It doesn’t take away the lonely feeling when I come home and the house feels empty. Like there’s a ghost walking in my hallway.
I sit hopeful, that the next car that drives by will be his.
Perhaps I am too hopeful. That I want the happy ending and the clarity I seek. If we try again, will you try? Or will you give up when things get hard? I feel that I can accept peace if things end again knowing we both tried and did our best to communicate our vulnerabilities, our needs. That we’re both honest.
This gray space is even darker on rainy days. The air feels heavy. The room feels darker. I hope I can see the light soon, and that it starts to brighten. I hope that I can have an emotionally mature conversation with you and that we amicably agree on a path forward.
I want to be wanted. I want to be my best self with my partner by my side. I want to conquer the world, together. I want three kisses, hands tangled, snuggles on the couch. I want the deep conversations and secrets that you only feel you can tell your person. I want the goofy text in the middle of the day, or the kiss emoji, out of the blue.
I want you. I want you to pick us.
