When I reread this entry from years ago, I felt like I was reading something from a lost chapter of my life. Sometimes the only possible way to describe something real is to write about it in a way that can’t quite be explained through the reality everyone else knows.
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It was just one moment. I didn’t really know what was happening and, at the same time, I knew exactly what was happening. I’d never felt anything like it before. I felt the tether not just collapse, but almost float away. I could feel myself suddenly reaching into nothingness. Anything I sent out fizzled and dissipated and, suddenly, I felt entirely broken. I was incapable of the one piece of magic I relentlessly knew I had in me. I eventually stopped trying to find that magic because it hurt too damn bad every time I tried and failed. I numbed it out. I put it on a shelf. I shoved it so deep into my being that I completely lost it.
Over the next few days, weeks, and months, I slowly pulled the tether back to me, buried it deep into my soul, and stitched up the wound as best I could. But, I’ll be honest, I don’t think a wound on the soul is one that can really heal. It feels like trying to stitch air together with a thread that has no where to go and just keeps slipping through my fingers. It feels like trying to heal a wound that was never meant to actually be there and my essence has no idea what to do with that part of me anymore.
Every time I looked into her eyes or felt her skin on mine, it was a reminder of what I couldn’t feel anymore. It was a reminder of what was. A reminder of that wound that couldn’t seem to close no matter how much I wanted it to. Was it a space not meant to be healed, but to be filled? Was the tether meant to come back and reach back out and reconnect somehow? Even if it was, could I ever trust to not feel that singular moment of actual, entire loss of connection again?
