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Was awakened super early Saturday morning to the sound of destruction.  A quick peek outside my front door revealed this: photo (2)

I am not a fan of change, most of the time.  I must be dragged to it, kicking and screaming.  And in the past several years, my neighborhood has been one of the ‘hot’ spots for new condos and apartments, new roads, new stop lights.  Which all means more traffic, more noise, more people.

This place used to be a hidden gem:  right off of a major road, close to downtown, quiet.  Nothing gold can stay, though, right?

I’ve heard through the neighborhood grapevine that it was my landlord, in fact, that has purchased this plot of land, and had the house dozed.  Which is all fine and good, as long as nothing new goes up in its place, save a nice garden.  We’ll see.  It’s all speculation at this point.  I’ll try not to obsess, but, no promises.


I cannot forget the morning I sat next to you, as you lie in bed.  I cried; you had your back turned to me.  You did not say a word.  This was my last-ditch effort to keep you, to keep you here, to save this relationship.  To keep you from leaving.

you see, I knew things would change if you left, it was inevitable.  Things would never be the same.  I was right.  You didn’t listen.

It was a recitation of everything in my heart; everything I thought and felt about you.  you listened, quietly.  Not a word, not a tear from you.  you were stone in the bed next to me.

I told you how much I loved you, how I could not imagine my life without you.  I could barely speak.  the depth and strength of my emotions overcame me; you were lifeless.

I told you that you, you lying next to me, your flesh– you were the love of my life.  so far.  there was doubt in my voice.  could I have been wrong?  would the love of my life leave me after only three months?

I couldn’t believe that you really actually would leave.  I fought with you over this; I fought with myself.  I asked myself:  if he really loved me, if I was important to him at all, wouldn’t he stay?  I had no control.  you made the decision to leave.  I was just a bystander.

The night you left, I was left in shock.  I still could not believe that you were gone.

I wondered around this small apartment, the one that we had recently shared.  I checked rooms, closets.  I felt abandoned.  Alone.  I knew then that everybody leaves.

I couldn’t sleep:  there was a vast emptiness here, in this apartment.  Here, in me.

Change can mean so many things. It  has multiple connotations: it can be good, bad, ugly, or just different.  I feel I am always fighting change in one way or another. Either I am in situations I want desperately to change, or I’m in a comfort zone and fight against any change. A big huge whopping bitch of a change came to my life recently, and oh, how I’ve fought against it. But fighting change is the same as fighting time: it is a battle a human can never win.

My life has changed;  my direction is changing.  I say ‘changing’ because I don’t yet know what direction I will be going in.  By this time, we (my ex and I) would have been married, and hypothetically living happily ever after.  That was my plan.  I thought it was his too.  He changed plans; he changed his mind.  Now, I am left with pieces of what my future plans were to be.  This is the question on my mind today:  What has this change forced me to do?  How is my life going to look now, now that this has happened?

What is this change forcing me to do?  That is a huge question.  Ok, for one thing, I have to decide what I’m going to do with my life.  What do I want my life to be?  After spending a year planning and filling out government forms and waiting waiting and then waiting some more for the Englishman (former fiance) to get here, it is hard for me to accept that he’s already come and gone, and now I have all this time to fill.  Nights I used to spend on Skype talking to him and wishing he were here are now spent weeping and wondering why he left.  While I realize it takes time to get over heartbreak, I am becoming somewhat impatient with myself.

I find myself hating everything about myself, and my surroundings.  My surroundings, because he hated it here.  He hated Nashville and now I hate it, I blame the city for causing me to lose love.  Is that allowed?  He claims it was not my fault he left, but that thought will always be at the back of my mind, taunting me a little bit.

My point of view:  if you love someone, wouldn’t you rather be with that person and hate the city you’re in, than be without that person?  After all, you can move.  You can change locations.  This is what gets me every time:  I was willing to move, to change my life just like he did, but he didn’t want that.  He didn’t want me to come to London.  I guess the change of moving to the states and living with me was one he could not bear:  he sunk back into his old life, he went back to the life he had before he ever met me.

So.  I have to face the change.  Others have told me this is an opportunity; look at the upside.

(looking for the upside…. must be here somewhere…. looking looking looking)

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