Some may still find me. Some may linger in the forgotten subscriber list, should the cobwebs release this update to the interwebs…
I am writing now purely out of self-indulgence… an indulgence I have not allowed myself in the last year. Denying myself pleasure was within my control–no longer was I subject to asking for pleasure from another, and it has felt powerful to tell myself no–strange so this may seem. I needed to retrace my steps to find out where I had gone wrong, where I let myself be led into stupid, stupid, unrequited love–and for so long. What was wrong with me? I read my own words here and remembered why, how, and I can’t say that I was quite as stupid as I thought in hindsight. But also, I did have the hindsight this year to find truth elsewhere.
I did. I found my way back up the garden path, this time stopping to notice the small things I had forgotten as I wandered down, down, down, a rabbit hole more than a path,
I will say at this point that home is not quite the way I left it. It never is. For all the wondering of what may have been if we had remained on the straight and narrow, I have come to believe that we can try to be smart about our lives, but in the end, we can all be mistaken in moments of wishful thinking, or perhaps just moments of empathy. I wished for a happy ending. Maybe there still is one, but it is not here. And still, here–all here–is woven into the richness of my life.
On May 29, I will be closing this blog down for good. It marks an anniversary, as well as a new beginning. It is the right time.
Though I wrote nothing in the last year, I could not bear to extinguish this public display. The pyre has stopped smouldering: these words, my protectors, now ashes.