It’s not that I don’t want another man in my life, I do, I really do; but never do they live up to my archetype man. Him; the model of which all man of the same type represent. Deceased; the love of my life. In actuality, he had flaws, lots of flaws, but now I’ll never know how it would have been with him as my life partner. Sometimes I don’t know how to start again. Oh, I have danced, laughed, made love, and felt the butterflies in my stomach over the last twelve years since, but now and again it’s been a lonely road of ambiguity and sometimes wrong choices.
It's with that feeling of ambiguity that I’ll somehow make it through the winds of change in my life. Never truly having the certainty of believing in myself. Never to somehow rise above my greatest challenges and leave behind where I have been. There are days I don’t want to leave behind where I’ve come from; I want to wallow in my loneliness and my heartaches. Yet the survivor in me wants to make myself better. To be a better caretaker of myself, a well-rounded person who is open to others.Open—what a word. Sometimes I feel I am a little too open, airing my dirty laundry for everyone to see almost like a defense mechanism to push everyone away. Really, I know I need to be open to the idea of it being okay to be hurt again; because how do you start over if you hold yourself back?