An encounter, after what seems like the longest time

I still can’t quite believe it.

How did I spend at least a whole 45 minutes in your company and not feel all emotional?

To have a pleasant civil conversation without me going to pieces?

I guess this is another marker in moving on?

I’m happy and sad at the same time. Happy that I got to spend that little time with you, to actually, finally, after wanting, hoping for it for the longest time, to have an extended conversation with you, even if it was all about you and you never really had me on your mind.

Sad that I could actually deal with this without going to pieces. Sad that this means I don’t seem emotionally held hostage by you anymore. Sad that I’m actually ok enough to have plastic conversations with people who pretty much never gave a real damn about me.

I’m happy you seem to have things figured out, with a clear focus of what you want of life, in your life. But I still wish, I still hope, you will one day be ready for me to say the things I really want to say.

Maybe the beauty of moving on is being able to hope for what could be without it being blind hope.

Or as Andy Puddicombe, former monk and author of ‘Get Some Headspace’ and website, puts it:

“It’s letting go of what we want it to be, and moving closer to acceptance of what is happening right now.”


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