... now over? just beginning?

Everyone has their heartbreak story. Now I have mine. Am I proud? Never. Would I love her again? I do still and have ever since I left. So how to tell the story of a broken heart? In fact, why tell it? So many have had it before and so many will again in the future. I wonder if that’s why I hyperventilated when I cried. There is perhaps an infinity in the sorrow where too many have lost their lives or lost their time… and I felt like I was breathing rapidly for all of them. Did she hear me screaming into the thunderstorm last week in south thailand? Am I justified and honest with my feelings? Completely and always. A sadness was with me from leaving other girls, but not nearly so much or for so long as with her. It’s the last comfortable thing I remember in my life, and now abroad, it’s hard to see beyond the thing you last recall with any degree of happiness. All you want is to go back there but there will never be that place again though perhaps a new one.

I recognize that It takes a higher perspective to see beyond my immediate reaction and I know I can’t regret my decision to leave; I can’t change my life to be what it would have been if I stayed; I can’t be in love from the other side of the world (yet I am); finally, I can’t stay the way I am now. I will sooner die than live another week with this feeling of heartache. I can't sleep or eat or anything and haven't been able for weeks.

The matrix of these "can not’s" hardens a sharp painful reality in my heart and mind, making clear the first priority of my soul: to focus on what I "can" do. I can focus on the future; I can be myself again despite how much pain I am in right now; I can remain hopeful that the right path emerges, perhapt back home; I can finally focus my energy on studies; I can figure out the first chance we will have to be together and just make it happen; I can meditate again (a useless proposition to-date); I can run; I can read; I can learn new things and be happy with the simple feeling of breathing again.

My time to rise above this thing or into it is now. The tide is high and I cannot regret my year abroad any more… it might be time to go back home. Yet, I am here trying to do the things I have always thought important. But the most important thing isn't here. maybe its home? Incomplete still, I am trying to build meaning into my "life again," in the words of Kipling, "with worn out tools." I want to be cured now, but only time will bide me clarity. There is no cure for love, only places where it can get stuck. I want none of my love to get stuck… I want it free and in the world, matched and mirrored by another. I have never felt this pain so badly before.

And until I have known the pain of a love forsaken, how did I even pretend to know what I pursued? Love killed me today; now cure me. I forgive you; do you forgive me? Let me give and feel your light in my life again. I am struggling. Seeing this place and this Asian world on fire for a chance, just a chance... I should be so lucky just to breathe and be here. I need to remember this fact. I am lucky just to be here.