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about time

hiding in plain sight

as my relationship unravels before my eyes, and I contemplate what it means to be told my love no longer loves me, that he is empty, I feel the need to regress to my old habit of blogging on here. where no one will ever see it.
so here’s the short story:
we met in line at a Tori Amos concert, the dream meeting for two diehard fans. It was instant crush. He knew it before I did, because I never suspected someone so beautiful could look at me that way. The deeper I went, the softer, more gentle, and amazing I found him. The hitch? He lives 5000 miles away, and I had only been out of prison for 7 months. It would be years at the earliest before we could really make a life together, if that’s what was meant to be. Prison had inured me to waiting for things I want, to internalizing my pain and doubt and fears, to compartmentalize it away. Focus on the now, Franklet. Do today. One foot in front of the other. It worked for me, but not for him. The idea that in a break-up someone always leaves with everything seems horribly true at this moment.
I had never loved someone who loved me back at the same time. I had never planned my future with someone and liked what I saw. I had never looked in someone’s eyes and saw my own beauty reflected back at me. I believed.
Right now I’m full of what-ifs:
what-if instead of blocking my early release from probation my PO had done the right thing and recommended it?
what-if instead of convincing himself he could not wait, he had convinced himself love was worth trying and moved here?
what-if instead of telling me he didn’t love me, he told me he needed a break from the pain?
what-if instead of breaking my heart he had found a way to enlarge his own?
So what now?
Pick up and move on? Or fight for him? Plan to travel to where he is and put it all on the line? I am that guy, but for now, I just have to be broken. And wait.
But I just want to be clear, here, if nowhere else: there is nothing brave about letting go of love.

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