And I can't sleep.........

At all. I'm thinking about you.

The strangest things

Sitting in my apartment tonight and mulling over words and thoughts. They scramble my brain. They leave me feeling helpless.

A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts.

I tip toe up to the peep hole and see a petite young girl was standing outside my door. My first reaction is that the person living downstairs is pissed because I'm still up.

I open the door a crack and peer into the brightly lit hallway. The girl standing front of me has tears in her big brown eyes and a cracked purple iPhone in her hand.

"Yes", I asked in a tentative voice.

She croaked out in a whisper, "Do you know the number of a taxi company," she looked down at her cracked phone and added, "...and a phone I could borrow?"

I invited her into the apartment and went into the other room to get my phone. Why was I opening the door at 1:30 in the morning to a total stranger? My childhood conditioning of paranoia incredibly entrenched in my brain was only superseded by my understanding of shitty situations. I remember being in a jam and asking strangers for help. It's not the easiest asking for help in the best of situations from people you know, and here she was asking me for help. Then she asked for a cigarette, I said sure as I was heading down myself. As we walked down the hallway she explained her predicament and the need for knocking on my door so late.

Her sister and sister's boyfriend live in the building, and wouldn't let her into the apartment. She said she could hear his phone inside the apartment and then it stopped, like it had been turned off.

I wondered if it was just ill fated luck that made her phone die at this critical time of her life. I waived that aside and told her it was no problem.

Then it occurred to me, how did she know I was up?

She explained that too. She saw my light on in through the peep hole and risked a knock.

We sat outside the building smoking, breathing in the smoke from my Belmont King size cigarette. I audibly prayed that she was at least close to legal age. She said she was nearly there, eighteen years old. I would've guessed 16 but she put up enough of a convincing story about going to college to pursue her dream to be a cosmologist. Then we sat in silence, with her occasionally saying thank you in whispers of speech.

The taxi pulled up and I extinguished my cigarette. I told her to knock, day or night, if she needed anything - no questions asked.

What a weird encounter with a random person.

But then, what is life without a bit of randomness.

I was just thinking about you

That's not true actually. I haven't stopped thinking about you. All day. All night.

I wish I could explain it to you. I tried tonight. Again. In vain.

I don't like this awkward communication. I think I'm making sense, to myself, in my brain. But then I talk to you and I see a whole other side of you. I don't understand how I'm not being clear.

I thought this made sense. I thought going, getting my stuff, giving his stuff back would be the mature thing to do. He had questions, he had things that he needed to say to me. He got them off his chest. I acknowledged them.

Choices

I don't expect you to understand the choices I make, but they are made for a reason.

What is love?

After spending much time reflecting lately on what love is, I have come to the realization that love is more about actions than it is about words. I know that there have been love songs explaining this, in rhythmic poetry, but to actually experience it first hand is illuminating.

Today I went to my matrimonial house to get the remaining personal items and take them to my new domicile.  Upon searching through the home for my items, I came across some that were not mine, but they were items that belonged to another woman. I have been out of the house for approximately two months and realized just how little love my ex had for me. He was prepared to invite someone else into our house in a highly committed way. It dawned on me how little he is dealing with his feelings over our separation and how this is incredibly detrimental to him. He drank the wine that was given at our wedding as anniversary milestones with another woman. I worry that he will not fully appreciate the healing process. I hope that in the future he can be happy. I hope that he can learn to move on in the right way. But that's my past.

I am looking to the future, hoping that through my therapy and self-reflection that I can trust myself and truly love myself so that I can be one with myself. Knowing this journey helps me to realize that love will come again to me, but that when it does I won't feel the need to hide myself from the relationship just in order to keep it. I know that I will be myself and know that I am an incredible human being who has the power to love and be loved.

I feel this in a whole new way. I feel that if I continue this process that I will become a person who cherishes life and lives based on what I believe is right and true.

I feel calmer now than I did before. It was an absolute shock to me, but one that reinforced my decision to leave him. Being in love isn't how long you've been with someone. Being in love has more to do with how you feel and how your feelings are shown. Instead of staying with someone hurtful, I had the courage to leave him. It lifted a huge weight of resentment and self-loathing off of my soul and made me appreciate just how talented and wonderful I am as a person.

I have more time for me, my friends, my career and what my plans are for the future. I know now that sometimes there are difficult decisions to be made, but love is something that cannot be talked about or explained. It is through feelings and emotions that true love enters one's soul and illuminates your sense of wonder.