Private tears, same old fears,
Nothing new, this is exactly you.
I am who I am,
You are who you are.
Fog is gone; I can see clear and far,
You are who you are.

Mid-December. It was the season to be merry and gather. We should have spent another warm holiday together but my mind was running. I tried to outrun my regret. Day by day, hour by hour, hoping time would do its job and I’d forget the fire in the blur of the past.

When I no longer felt the heat, I thought I could breathe. The air felt clean, calm, and cool.

But when I felt the heat creep up once again, I faced the decision of running or righting the wrong… I ran.

I ran from the evident truth that our relationship had ran its course and I lacked the energy to be on this track with you. I ran in emotional circles, hoping I’d discover new angles to make things right in my mind. The logic was not adding up to the amount of heartache, tears, and nights of secretly wondering if I had made a mistake. In summation, I theorized if we could truly balance each other out? I started to think in order for this to work out, I needed to take myself out of the equation. If there’s a formula to change a man, I never found it. The mental gymnastics left me in last place; there’s no prize for falling into the same cycle again.

Burying my realization with more mental chances, unbeknownst to you, I never had the courage to face the fact sheet in my head. We would no longer share a bed, weekends, and holidays together. The daze I was in, I sought to end it. I no longer wanted to be stunned by disrespect, be called out of my name, and asking myself if your cruelty was my doing. It wasn’t. I latched onto hope for you and us until I remembered that hope can be a dangerous game to play. We don’t win when I cannot escape the thought of wondering if you truly, genuinely, full heartedly loved and respected me. We both lose. They crown you “The Most Respectful Man” and those gold spikes pierced my heart with the cold truth that respect for me was not present. Take your crown and wear it for those who want to see it, for I’ve seen colors of you I no longer want to know. We were grey for a while: losing color, momentum was halting, and our laughter lacked levity. I once ached for more chapters in our love story and now, I no longer want to read the book of us. You said, “And don’t come back.” And I say, thank you, sincerely. I thank you also for teaching me lessons in love for our relationship (being my first ever and oh so serious & committed) as it healed parts of me unexpectedly and opened my heart in ways where it won’t close up again. I thank you for the travel: trips out of the country and always driving safely. Thank you for all the cooking, meals, hugs, and flowers. There is a long list of light moments that make me smile which I appreciate.

As I walk solo on this new path, I think of what’s gone, what’s left behind me, and what’s ahead. The walls I let down for you reconstructed themselves to be taller, wider, and wiser. The city filled with bright memories of us darkened and the lights are turned off forever. It’s quiet, like how you wanted me to be. I turned in the keys and the map to finding us has blown into the wind, swirling away into the atmosphere: never to be seen, found, or touched ever again. I’m searching for the girl I used to be: loud, wild, and proud of it. I’m looking for the little shimmer of light of the girl who unabashedly expressed herself without fear or suppression. As I ponder about the past, I wonder, was I lovesick? Did a fervent fever take over my system and I had become bedridden, stifled by the pressure I put on myself to be this ‘perfect’ person I thought you wanted? Shame was my sickness and I’m still in recovery. Ashamed I stayed a little too long after boundaries were crossed multiple times. Ashamed I pushed down and shut down the core of who I am to placate situations only to be maybe (possibly?!) suitable enough for you. Ashamed I loved you more than I loved myself…

The cure I’ve prescribed myself is grace and forgiveness. Giving myself grace and space to release the pressure, allow my old self to make her return, while venturing into the space of the woman I want to become. I look into the horizon of what’s ahead; I know there’s a version of myself waiting for me to jump, leap, and soar into new heights of happiness. I paint my skies with hues that don’t stem from you and I find peace in my sunsets now. I hope you do, too. Rain falls from my eyes and water the ground below, new greenery sprouts, and just like the terrain of Portland, the aftermath of rain brings forth flora and undiscovered beauty.  

Lynn’s Notes: I thought about this piece during the rainy season in Sacramento and it made me think of the first time I flew to Portland. I sat next to a girl who said it rained in Portland often but in the summer, the greenery was so beautiful. While I visited in the winter, I could envision it. As the rain let up in my neighborhood, the entire area was alive with verdant lawns. I’ve even spotted patches of clovers though I did not go searching for four-leaved clovers. I define my luck in the way I see life and what I can learn from a situation. After all, I am in the business of gathering experiences and feeling it all. Thanks for reading!