Being surrounded by the love of others hurts
Last month, my partner broke up with me in a park, holding a party bag I was foolish enough to think was a gift. It had all the clothes, books and other things I had lent them, and I was astounded that I, suddenly, didn't care for any of them. I didn't want them back. Soft and stupid reminders.
The time passed anyways, and it felt as though everyone in my life was finding love just as mine had faded intangibly into the air like a vapour; as if all the love We had spent on building the Thing between Us had ballooned, burst, and spread onto everyone else I thought about. As if the energy had nowhere to go, and infected everyone else around. There's at least four people I know, off the top of my head, who got into relationships the moment I got released, unwilling, like a domesticated bird into the wild, from mine. None of these people ever stop talking about their partners. It makes my face feel hot and my heart twist; is that how I sounded? All that softness and gentleness?
When I talk to my friends who are abundant of love, I feel that I am very, very ugly in comparison. Perhaps I need to make some kind of apology because their happiness makes me angry. I just want to kiss and kiss and kiss and I don't have the person I want to kiss anymore. I want to touch and coddle and cosset but there's only me, my back. My friends love me, I exercise regularly, I journal and I draw and I bake and yet I cannot GET anywhere. The plumbline in my sternum sings offtune still.