I MADE IT THROUGH THE WILDERNESS, SOMEHOW I MADE IT THROUGH

OK, so I was going to put up another paragraph from the same chapter the last entry was from, but fuck that. I want to put this up instead, it's still from CotMWM, wrote it a couple of days ago:

"Sometimes, the idea of not knowing him, of not being able to turn to him not for advice but for company, of not being able to tell him about my day, my choices, my actions, frightens me to death. Shaking I sit staring at the computer screen, or by the telephone, or I’ll drive past his house; all these means of communicating with him that are simply not available to me anymore. But it doesn’t scare me now; I don’t need him now. Right now everything is fine; I get along fine without even missing him. I worry about the future. Come September, will I miss him then? Or when October arrives, won’t it be hard without him around, won’t it be a struggle if (when) he is not in my life? I can’t imagine being without him, but then, in June, I couldn’t imagine an Oliver-less life in July either. But that month passed, we’re now in August and I wasn’t afraid then and I’m not now; it’s not hard. Sometimes I feel pangs of sorrow, but not loss, at least not that crazy senseless loss that it is to lose love. It’s there, but not in everything I do, and I don’t miss the specific person, Oliver or what really happened (altered in my mind or otherwise); I miss what could have been.

August is almost over, the end of summer is nearing with September; people work, they move, schools are starting, families go home from their summer houses; normal life has yet again returned and all is well; now I fear October and the month after that (and the month after that) and will continue to fear them until the day I wake up and realise there is no longer anything, no sorrow, no regrets, no what-if’s. There is just me and the life I’m leading (whatever that might be, something grand (possibly) or something ordinary (probably)). And in a way, isn’t that sadder than all the rest? Sure, it is fantastic that we can move on, that life can re-establish itself as something normal, without veering between the extremes all the time (when in love, I’m always exhausted from all the mood swings; I sleep like a baby), but the fact that someone who used to be so dear to you no longer is, that something that used to be so important to you no longer matters, what does that say about us as human beings? Is it that our survival mode kicks in, or is it simply laziness or do we really forget? But the dire need to not let everything get to you, to accept and let go (see any and all self-help books), is in itself important. But I can’t help but feel certain sadness at the thought of how little my past love(r)s mean to me now. Soon Oliver will join them and for my sanity, that is good; for my heart as well. But for the memories that need to be respected, if not revisited…I don’t know. They will for every year I no longer have him in my bed, become foggier and foggier. They already feel distant, but soon they’ll be pretty much gone altogether; they will really become just memories. But I guess I don’t need them to be alive; I don’t need to cherish them; I just wish they could always feel close. "

- The creativity of the mess we make, Julia Melin