The actual ending of a thing can happen rather abruptly. Short, quick, cutting words that change the terms of the relationship.

Then there's the shit ton of space that appears after—suddenly the world is open and terrifying. Those fallen words signify that everything that was intertwined is now going to unravel.

I've been on both sides of the thing*, but it's only now that I truly understand the weight of being the one to let go.

It is fucking hard.

Letting go because something deep in the core says it's just not right.

No wrong, no fault. It just wasn't. Despite all of the ways it could have been...Being the one to let go doesn't make it easier. It didn't stop the night my body was taken over by this thing. This sad, sad thing. When I sobbed and fell to my floor. Just sobbing and reaching. Curling myself into a ball wishing I could curl myself into nothing.

*Oh this life.

The circles. The switching of places—being put where someone was, only to better understand the whole thing.

I remember being thrilled to get to the other side (in different matter of the heart), but now I think it's just about getting to another side.

Constant movement. Rotating spaces. Shifting. Forward, forward, on and through.*

I take comfort in believing that we are all connected.

That works itself out.

That we're all from the same thing—a gigantic love sparkle bubble that is life. An extraordinary thing that we can't really understand.

That we will all be together again. Those we've hurt, loved, disliked, envied, all of it.

Maybe the thing isn't meant to be understood. Only explored. Or something.--* though, as a friend pointed out - there are many sides to the thing. 

Uncategorizedkimlove, writing