Play until the whistle. You have to move forward, like it or not. Keep going. Where there's life, there's ho....
Well, there's life.
He started in at a new gym last night. The coaches called him "sir". He performed a closely directed, scaled-down, Crossfit workout that left him shaking,gasping, and soaked; helped him to rage appropriately; got him home late and made him sleep for a couple of hours. When he woke up, she was there but not really, and he started sinking. Thankfully, the pager went off and kept him moving for the next few hours until it was time to leave for his day job.
Today, someone started talking about something he did not want to listen to. He watched himself retreat to her inside himself, as he so often does, but found her gone. There was startlingly nothing in that space. He feels that emptiness still. There aren't good words for how bad that is.
An article posted on Facebook reports withdrawing and detoxing from love activates the same parts of the brain as withdrawing and detoxing from drugs. But drugs don't have your face. They don't have your touch.
A significant age difference, the sudden need to start a family, an unsatisfactory income - twitching legs pulled from a spider. Meanwhile, he tries hard to not see this part of her. But he does.
He can find there in the darkness no partnership, no soul mate, only idolatry.
Desolate. Drone. Done.
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