a happy ending

Aqualung ‘Pressure Suit’

I’m guilty of it too–Carrie Bradshaw is the Chuck Norris for girls, and I’ve subscribed to her life teachings and dramatic exchanges for awhile now. If something goes wrong, you nod or shake your head, appropriately, because you’ve been there. So there I was, coffee on the stand, laptop at my fingertips, chronicling my slow romantic decline. Every story was another piece in a puzzle I couldn’t, and wouldn’t see the picture to, something I didn’t even try to understand.

Then again, maybe there are happy endings. I realized on the last ride home with Auto, that I couldn’t make someone love me. You can’t help who you love, you’re not supposed to, I’ve always said, and now, turned back on me, I couldn’t make him love me. And aside from that, is that the way I wanted it to go??–someone who loves me because they should? This whole time I’ve fulfilled an obligation, dishing out my affection in compliance with a silent duty I’d made up for myself, aware my work was charity, and would go unrecognized. I was doing neither of us a favour. Of course, I hesitated slightly at the thought of letting him go, before I realized I wasn’t walking away from him. He was never there in the first place so I had nothing to turn my back on. If it was performance, I should’ve gotten the hook long ago. Taking pause should be just that–a momentary doubt before moving on; I was loitering. Just go. A liberating feeling, releasing yourself from a fog.

I did just that. I took a deep breath and stepped out into the sun. I may have fallen, but the bumps and bruises along the way slowed me down, and look where I landed…a new beginning. I’m smiling again, a refreshing balance where the good outweighs the bad. Even if there was no one new to induce the feeling, I’d be headed in a good direction. And what a feeling it is.