Timing

Nothing happens by chance, my friend... No such thing as luck. A meaning behind every little thing, and such a meaning behind this. Part for you, part for me, may not see it all real clear right now, but we will, before long. -Richard Bach

The anticipation and hope of what may have occured is what hurts the most. Not knowing the full potential of something you felt such a strong affinity for can really scar a person. Not just any person, but me. The girl who had these fantasy scenes playing in her head on a constant reel. The girl who imagined that- since she had gone so long without that 'true love'...the one that was to come had the be a strong one.

I don't know you. I don't know your favorite color, what you eat for breakfeast, if you shower every day or if you do every other. I don't know how many girls you've loved but now I do know how many girls you've fucked with- at least one.

The saddest part is that I can't pin the blame on you. It's like a CSI crime scene without any finger prints or leftover hair samples. You didn't cheat on me and you didn't even lie to me. There were no promises. The only promise was that of possibility. A possiblity I had grown up so much in my head that at some place in between limbo and my true reality- I thought possible.

It felt like such a sign. The end of the year, the beginning of another, the start of something new. Throughout my lifetime I have seen graphics plastered all over social media sites saying "This is my year!" and "New year, new me!". But do you know what I've realized? January is nothing but the name of a grouping of time. Today could have been three months ago, or summer. Time, age, dates are nothing but names and ways to mark the start and beggining of things. So who's to say what's the beggining and what's the end?

Today I promise to not look back and dwell on things that might have happened or could have happened. Whether a whirlwind romance or a tornado of sheets on the bedroom floor- that obviously doesn't matter now. Because now is yesterday and yesterday used to be the present. Time is nothing but a name. A name that I refuse to put value to.