You Know That Feeling?

When you're inside a fog you can never see much but what's immediately around you. And you don't really care about the things you can't see, especially if you're not even aware you've been immersed in a massive bank of opaque air. All you care about is getting to what you see as being in front of you.

Isn't it strange that once you get out of the fog, whether it be by yourself, or if it lifts on it's own, you look back and can't see anything you saw while you were in it? You can't understand what you were thinking, what you were doing, what on EARTH you were trying to get to, but suddenly the world around you seems so much clearer...

That's how it feels to fall out of love.

It seems that all this time I've been some sort of flat, cardboard replica of what girls are supposed to be like when they're in love, nothing but a colorful compliment to their partner's elbow. Two years of allowing my colors to bleed out and fade away, like a piece of construction paper left to bleach in the sun for too long. Two years of being content to sit, imprisoned, in the cold shade when there's golden sunshine and freedom waiting outside it.

For the few months I've been all by myself, facing the world alone, standing with my feet firmly planted to the ground again, I suddenly remember what it was I wanted out of my best love. And it wasn't that. For the few months I've BEEN MYSELF I've never been so happy. I didn't even realize I was missing, but now that I'm back I realize that I was nothing without me.

I mean, sure, life has it's problems. There's homework, moving out, preparing for my future, working on my writing so I can get published and live my dreams... I get stressed and depressed just like any other normal human being, but it's the strangest thing...

Even when I'm down, I always have that undercurrent of something sweet and happy. It's the strangest thing. My lowest points now blow my highest points for the past five years of my life straight out of the water. So far out of the water that I would allow myself to use a cliche like that in my writing!

I love it. I love this feeling of being colored in again, my inner child scribbling outside the lines in wacky shades, while my inner artist adds a magical flourish. My inner romantic throws in a few roses, restoring all the faith I had lost in an eternal and perfect love. So many other aspects of my heart and my mind, and my soul contribute to this rebirth and before I know it all the bleached out colors are back and brighter than ever...

Sure, pastels are nice. They're soft and romantic. But there's a whole other rainbow out there!

I'm rediscovering who I am, what I want, what I deserve and I love it.

I'm not in love anymore and I love it.