Suitcase Full of Sparks.
At twenty-two, I met the love of my life. Before I met exploring or adventure. Or failure or disappointment. Or yoga or running or dancing or sitting in silence. Or consecutive nights of four AM bedtimes or living in a new city. Before I met myself and all the different humans I’m capable of being at any given time. Before I actually even met the idea of living, I met Rob.
And, for four and half years he showed me fierce loyalty, stubborn resilience, aggressive steadfastness, and utterly blind oneness. And though the evolution of my being lead me to discard the treasure I found in him, he remains to be my basis for comparison. And, truly, there is no comparison.
I sit alone in a bed, in a room, in a city, 2000 miles from the place I called “home”. And alone I’ll continue to sit. For an undetermined amount of time. Because I will not entertain the idea of allowing someone to show me their version love. Knowing it would vary far too much from that I was shown by Rob.
I’m not of the persuasion that there is one human made for everyone in this life. I’m just certain no one will love me the way that man did. I was his sunshine. It shone in his smile. It rang through his voice. And the way I made him laugh will be the reason I may never allow anyone as close to me as I allowed him.
Life is full of triumphs and mistakes. And, within you, lies a lot of each for me.
I’ll continue to flash smiles and run wild until I find my way to you.