It has been eight months since I left my fiance. We dated for three years and were engaged for four. I had been packing for weeks, or was it months? Regardless, I left my partner, three step-kids and three dogs in the house we purchased together, two years earlier.
After three months, I found a suitable house for rent which would allow my fur-babies to join me again–I was ecstatic! Aside from missing time with my kids, having my pups back in my arms finally granted me a tiny bit of happiness.
Here I sit, eight months later, wading in anxiety and depression, hoping that one day I will figure out who I want to be. At 32 years old I have wandered through the halls of higher education while drunk, high and medicated; I have learned that mortality unearths itself more in times of panic, which is now an everyday occurrence; and you cannot love someone unless you know and love yourself.
There could be a million reasons why I haven’t dated, or even thought about dating in the past eight months but I can only surmise that I am inept, after loving someone for seven years. Do you hang onto the past which meant so much? How do you cope with someone who still loves you but hasn’t apologized for all the instances which tore your heart into a million pieces?
What I do know is that I AM a PINK STARBURST.