Is it possible to hurt more in the anticipation of missing somebody than upon the actual realization of the event? The not knowing of what the future will hold, if they were just there for a time, or if you are moving to a new place, a new level, with new kinds of beauty, feels unbearable.
Like falling off a horse, your back slamming into the ground.
All you can do is lay there, unresponsive.
Like being hit in the face with a basketball, when the only clarity is the pain,
all the rest of the world becomes fuzzy.
You want to be happy, glad that a new phase of life has come, WANT to be joyful that new dreams and adventures are taking hold. But that hole gnaws at you and you selfishly would rather everything to stay the same just so YOU don't have to feel this way.
And it would be so much easier to sleep at night if you knew your dreams wouldn't tease you with all your unrealized wishes.
It would be so much easier to know what to do. To let go? To try harder? To just accept? All I want to do is cry and go run. Try desperately to outrun these feelings.
I had a dream last night that I was in my old station wagon, driving through the snowy Pennsylvania farmland, and I had fallen asleep, though the car kept following the right path. When I awoke, the car spun out around a turn and flew through the front field of a farmhouse, into the fence at it's edge. I saw the fence coming towards me, but couldn't put on the breaks, even though the thought consumed me. All I could see was the fence and the hazy outline of a world in white. And we collided.