A broken heart.

A realization I wasn’t the only one.

More bitter feelings.

Sighs of relief.

Sad comfort in the loneliness.

Extreme behaviors shrugged of with the excuse of “healing”.

Understanding that I won’t be able to ever understand.

A weird practice in conscious stream of thought, but that’s what came out when I first opened this new page. This blank digital sheet ready for anything to fill its space.

A few months ago I sat in this same spot with the sun on the cusp of setting and a soundtrack reflecting my emotions playing in the background. A few months ago I sat ruminating about possibilities after a day spent solo adventuring. Spring in Seattle screams at you; it doesn’t so much as accost you but hollers at you an invite so warm and inviting you can’t help but succumb to its calling. That day in the spring I had spent wandering through blossoming cherry trees amongst giggling families, young lovers, and serious photo shoots. I came home after a visit to a local pub and stood on the rooftop watching the world spin. I saw the sky and sun paint a beautiful picture punctuated with planes and birds. I looked to the skyline and was amazed at the sheer marvel of high-rise buildings made of steel and glass. I watched as people enjoyed a summer evening that seemed to have been blessed by a higher power.

And I thought of you.

I spent so much time thinking of you. How much I had longed for a connection I thought would resume after a bit of patience. Ebbing and flowing into my life this past spring and summer like a ghost with no set schedule.

I tell people I’m over you. In some ways I am, but in others I still long for you despite just how much you hurt me. How cold and dishonest you were with me that night. Mere hours after you had professed your love for someone else in the same clothes, in the same mood, in the same space of time.

You didn’t break me. I want to make that clear. You just put me through my paces faster than I had ever expected. You mask your dishonesty with a veil of privacy, and I can’t fault you for it, but you aren’t forth-coming.

The day I told you I was having a hard time even trying to be your friend you turned it around on me and made yourself the victim instead of even pretending to know how I feel. I spent that day in bed crying; mourning the loss of what I thought could have been. Instead, I got played, rejected, and discarded.

So this is me recovering. This is me telling myself I did not get bested, just blindsided. I got hit with a speed-run of lessons and a series of toxic behaviors that aren’t easy to spot. The previous experience was very obvious; that guy was a perfect example of someone just hoping for a reason to hit a woman. No, this guy was toxic in a way I hadn’t expected – a need to be a coddled victim with no remorse or concern for anyone else.

I’ve been strung along enough and my heart is tired.

It’s time I spend the winter writing songs about getting better, instead.