spaces between days

Dear K-

You know, I really don’t feel so bad about it. Not as much as I had expected, at least. I’m used to being alone, and now that I am back to being a solitary figure things seem to be progressing along about as smoothly, if not more so, as they were before. It’s given me a lot of time to myself. A lot of time to reflect.

Some people meditate for relaxation and the collection of thoughts. I exercise. It’s my “zen time”. Nothing allows me to better clear my mind than to spend an hour shooting hoops or running laps or cycling. Lately, I’ve taken to swimming laps. There’s hardly any distraction at all beneath those chlorinated aquamarine waters. It is just the steady rhythm of the splash of each stroke and the whooshing bubbles of every exhalation, a repetitive mantra that brings my inner peace. Those quiet, lonely laps have allowed me a lot of time to mull over my life decisions, and in the end I feel okay. I don’t feel super or amazing or on top of the world, but I feel like I’m still a valuable person. I feel like I still have some worth, hidden deep down beneath all the self-loathing and sentiments of rejection.

It’s autumn. I like to sit outside at night and look at the crisp clean stars in the cold evening air and smell the smoke from the fires of some nearby neighbor burning leaves. You know, it’s illegal to burn leaves and organic yard wastes here. The city expects you to take your trimmings, bag them up, and then place them at the side of the road for collection. I know many people have allergies and maybe the smoke is a nuisance to them, but for me, personally, there is hardly a more powerful nostalgia-inducing aroma than that of burning leaves. It stirs recollections of autumns past, memories of raking leaves in my backyard and shaping them into long piles to stretch across the withering grass. I’d arrange the piles to form the floor plan of an imaginary house, within which I would play and pretend to live a fantasy domestic life, until the dog came bounding through the kitchen wall and sent the leaf barricade spewing throughout the dining room. As a kid I’d volunteer at the church to help rake the yards of the elderly. I wasn’t really so keen on community service as I was with having an opportunity to hang out with my friends who also signed up for the church volunteer group. We’d have raking races and throw armfuls of leaves at each other, squealing with delight as we took an hour to complete what would normally take only about twenty minutes worth of hard work. There was the time when we accidentally broke one of the rakes when we were pretending they were swords, and I had to spend the rest of the afternoon using an old broom as a replacement. At least we usually got rewarded with cookies and Kool-aid at the end of the day.

I love this season. I’m trying to be a better person now. Nothing can be done about the past. Nimam obzaluje. When I fall asleep at night I now rest with the knowledge that I will never have to choke on his flesh again. He won't make me feel sick inside and he won't take advantage of my good nature. But I will also never feel his tender embrace, laugh with him, or smile and feel at ease just to be beside him. At parties, I was so proud just to be sitting with him. But now I can no longer feel that peace. There is nothing but agitation and a desire to be alone.

But I still miss the good days.

Tell me about your week.

Still occasionally lonely,
-K