Land of the Lost

Damn. I did it. I feared I would, I did everything I could to keep it from happening, and I still freaking did it. I lost my self, and I wasn't even conscious of it enough to play the BlinkBlink version of "Where's Waldo." From day one, I started thinking "oh, I could move. It wouldn't be a big deal." Really? You could pack up and move to a city you know nothing about just because he is there? You could leave a great job, a job you've been waiting years for, to be with Mr. Damaged? And while all of this was going on, I was so proudly proclaiming my independence. It took ending things to see how dependent I was on him; how desperate I was to please him. Since I hit the "send" button and detonated the relationship, I've been me again. I'm disappointed in my loss of self, but I have no regrets. I learned a lot about relationships and myself, preparing me for the next great adventure. There's no sense beating myself up or wondering if I should have done things differently. After all, as Kierkegaard said "Life can only be understood backwards." Even Better? He continued, "but it must be lived forwards." Sound advice from a dead dude, don't you think?