I think one of the all to familiar and painful emotions I experience is the loss of capturing someone’s attention. The recognition that the one whose affection you held so unmistakably vanished before your very eyes. This affection dies slowly but it does not die softly. It’s like waking up each morning and another one of your blankets has gone missing during the cold winter after you’ve found just enough to keep you from shivering. You’re cold from the moment one goes missing but it’s deceptive in the way that the presence of the other blankets is supposed to still keep you warm. This absence is something I’ve experienced again and again and again without relent. I question myself — “Why can I only capture for a moment? When will I be able to capture for a lifetime?”
It would be easy just to blame it perhaps on the avenues where I find this affection. One could be as bold to say that I’ve asked for it. But, this theme goes far beyond the time and space of the most recent encounters I’ve had. It’s a ripple effect over a decade of long lost lovers and friends. All of whom have slowly but intentionally decided I was not a fit for them. In other ways, I’ve had the abrupt cut off. I used to think that was far worse. The reason being: all you’re left with is your own thoughts pertaining why the absence happen so quickly and we all know a rabbit trail of the mind is quite a tragedy. There’s something about slowly ripping off the bandaid that hurts differently. Seeing someone be there but not truly there. It feels like you begin to see them through a foggy glass window. You know it’s them on the other side but it doesn’t quite look like them anymore. The slow familiar loss is creeping back in leaving tangible and deeply imprinted foot steps of distrust this time around and I am so sad for that.
C.S. Lewis says “To love is to be by vulnerable” but I’m not quite sure anymore if that’s safe anymore.
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