On the death of myself.

I haven't blogged here in almost a year.

A few on MySpace, but not here.

In that almost year, I have sort of graduated college. If not college then that phase of my life.

I have allowed myself to love for real, and let go of the thing I held on to for three very long years. I finally let that love be free, and I finally let it die. One can only nurture the pain for so long before she just outgrows it.

I met a man who has changed my life. In the beginning, for the better. Right now, because of him, I cannot stop crying. I know that in the end, he will have changed me for the best.

At first, I cried a few small tears. They carried the pain of (just one more) man that will break my eagerly given heart. It wasn't that bad. But as I continuted, they grew. Now they are huge and pregnant with years of pain that I can't seem to get rid of. They say crying is cleansing, but after a few weeks of periodic bawling and almost constantly fighting back tears (even when I'm laughing), I have to ask the gods "When will the cleansing be over? How is it that I am not clean YET?!"

"I know that fire purifies, but I feel pure enough now so can we please just let this shit die?"

But they disagree, and the tears keep coming.

Amid them though, I am seeing something new. The world looks very different when clouded with saline. Shapes change a bit.

Through these tears, I am seeing the death of myself.

There was just one moment where I finally stopped dabbing at my tears with Puffs and just let myself heave and bawl into my pillow. I reverted to my childhood just long enough to feel the tears change from the pain in my heart to being able to actually feel the cleansing that comes.

I had to cry now, because I was shedding. I had done enough crying after him, and now it was time for me.

Though I am not done, tears have slowed. Here in my room, I have held a funeral for the death of my old self. She is almost twenty-three now, and though the age itself means nothing in particular, the addition of one year's experiences is invaluable.

But now I have mourned, and I must release. Put away the sackcloth and ashes, and begin to rejoice in the freedom.