My histrionics free me
Even when my heart was breaking, even when I torched my soul, even when I had to go, sit it in that damn Ford Galaxy and leave my SOMETHING behind and go on a whole new adventure, even then…
A little trip to South, then Munich and from there the kooky 30-hour-long drive to Kiev.
What did I expect anyway?
Well, not what REALLY happened. I didn’t expect caring so much, I didn’t expect my heart to ache when I dragged that navy IKEA backpack to the car and turned back to look at him.
I didn’t expect to cry my eyes out on the way outta Switzerland and to a land of my prior hopes and dreams.
Good thing I had a friend who could just come and get me from Switzerland.
Good thing he didn’t even notice me crying or just pretended not to.
Yesterday when I was mourning the end of whatever it was with my man in Swiss country, I tried to grasp the reason for my never ending sobbing. I didn’t understand. There was no reasoning it. I missed him. I knew that. I wanted to be there, when he got back from work, I knew that too. But was it the TRUE reason I was pouring my heart out all over my friend’s appartment in Tirol?
I didn’t seem to think so.
Maybe it was the uncertainty and the unexpectedness of the whole enterprise.
Maybe I fell for him and didn’t even realize it.
But in the end, isn’t this what I wanted?
And I did.
There hadn’t been one specific moment. It was like gradually waking up.
You go from being asleep to the space between dreaming and awake and then into consciousness. It’s a slow process, but when you’re awake, there’s no mistaking it. There’s no mistaking it that it is…or was…SOMETHING
I feel lucky
A mere happiness with tears waiting to pour out of eyes and slide off my cheeks
Thank you for reading