I am trying to squeeze out every word, rhyme and reason to help me explain what this is all about and where the heck is the devastating feeling coming from. No lives were ruined. No heart was fooled. No love was lost. So what is this unexplainable, uncategorized feeling at the pit of my stomach somehow making me feel that I need to grieve or scream something out, or drown the unknown in alcohol or something fattening and sweet whichever is the worst.

*Shots* I felt bad when I had it because I always felt like we had to part ways–with all the sensible reasons explaining why we had to. And now that I decided to live without it, I felt the same–worse, because I’ve been contradicting myself. Because what I thought was right, felt like something bad. And who really wins when you contradict yourself? — Yourself right? But which one? Which part of you? *Shots*

My hopes are funny…so can I just laugh hard instead of grieve? It seems healthier to think of myself as a fool than think of myself in pain from losing something I could not even identify or recognize–otherwise I’d end up being a fool in pain or a lonely fool or a defeated fool? Whatever! I want to laugh. So I’ll just laugh instead of cry or grieve or whatever is appropriate for this situation! *Laughs*

Fine! I accept. I gave my heart a fair chance in finding it. Because that is courage–being afraid but doing it anyway, fearing the unknown but going out there to find out what the possibilities can be, risking your heart from getting hurt but remaining honest and free to say, feel and choose what it wants.

My heart may not think the way my brain reasons. But I know it has always been the most courageous part of me. So I’ll laugh. Let’s laugh. The jokes are on me because I thought these feelings should make me grieve when in fact they should allow me to celebrate.

Celebrate almost finding it, and almost losing it and almost figuring out what this could have been.