I am single.
It really dawned on me this morning, having finally stepped from bed after a difficult night’s sleep and the email I received last night from someone I love, saying he wasn’t going out anywhere because he’s too busy working.
It felt like the same kind of rejection I received last year from another love, that he’s too busy working to pay me any attention.
It felt as cold and careless, and I hated it.
But I’m okay now, back in the warmth… and I am single.
I don’t know where my life will take me; I don’t know who I’ll meet, and I don’t know who will draw me next… who I’ll draw. But I’m alone, single, for the first time since high school; single in a way that I’m okay with, particularly because I’m busy and have so many things I’m working on.
And because I know that one does not imply the other: that working hard on something one cares for does not imply a negation to love and romance and sex and caring for others. Quite the opposite, in fact, if the people around you care enough FOR you.
Everyone I know is in pain. The pain is not really the problem; it’s accepting it, sitting in it, living with it. Denying it. Rejecting love when it comes because the pain hurts too much. And I just don’t want that for myself; not to the degree that they accept and live with it. Not to the degree where I have accepted and lived with it.
There’s too much to love, too much beauty to sit around and wallow. It’s beautiful even to have to be still, to be alone for a time - but you don’t have to wallow and make the pain worse.
I’d rather sit IN beauty and wallow in it. So much more fun.
