I recently had a dream. A saddened woman confessed to me that you had sent her mixed messages after showering her with love and affection, too. I wisely told her that though your world perception was different than most and that sometimes you said downright cold things, the chapter I’d had with you was still one of the most beautiful chapters I’d ever had.
I meant it. And I woke up feeling happy and grateful.
Though we’d only spent a few weeks together, not one person in my life has made more of an impact in such a short time. Shortly after meeting, I bought a camper van, dedicated myself to my writing, and began actually living the life of my dreams, a life outside the matrix. So, thank you for your initial kindness and vulnerability, and then thank you for cutting me loose, for in the cutting, I discovered that I am actually really good at tending to my own wounds.
Now it’s obvious to me that we were not meant to be together for a long time. That a portal had opened, and we were meant to relish in each other’s light, and that I should just be grateful for the time we had. But sometimes, sometimes, I want to call you and ask how you’re doing. Sometimes, when meditating, I feel gratitude for you and want to text and thank you. I want to tell you I love you and still think of you as an angel, but I don’t. I write instead, like the following poem.
Sometimes I think about writing you, but then I remember you telling me you never think about me.
I knew it wasn’t true (I am not so easily forgettable), but it stung nonetheless.
I knew it was something someone says when they want to break the spell they’ve been under, when they want their daydreams to return to those of enlightenment, not of mundane human delights like starting a family, growing a garden, and cooking dinner together while dancing in the kitchen barefoot, our sun-kissed skin glowing from being outside all day. Our rescued dog curled up on the rug near the door, waiting patiently for a scrap of food to fall off the cutting board and onto the floor.
I think about writing you sometimes, but then I write a poem instead.
Not everyone who comes into your life will stay. Some are only meant to reflect the hard work you’ve been doing and then drift away. It feels hard when that person leaves because you grieve not only their physical presence but also the dream life you’ve been secretly conjuring. Still, I truly believe that rejection is protection. Perhaps that person is not a vibrational match to who you are becoming. Perhaps your higher self wants more for you. Or perhaps that person is incapable of holding space for all the versions of you. Whatever the reason, try not to let the sting sting too long. Thank the universe for sending this person your way, and then use the experience as fuel for your creative expression and self-expansion journey.
Featured image via cottonbro studio on Pexels
