Allowing myself the Sharpness

It's hard to breathe today, for my heart seizing up at the idea of change.

I could have gone on happily like this for years. I could have gone on like this forever: This comfortable, pressure-free give and take of a relationship. This thing that didn't require me to be anything for anybody but what I was...this thing that just let me be for someone. Hovering around you and near you so close that it almost appeared that we were touching, the way a pair of dragonflies dance when the heat rolls off summer sidewalks in waves. There but not there. Easy. Comfortable. Hovering.

It's sharp, this pain, like when you stub your toe on the corner of a piece of furniture. Like when you rub antibacterial over a papercut. It's the sharp pain before the ache sets in and settles in. And I still have months. I'm almost looking forward to the ache, just to take the edge off this. It's too sharp today. Too hard to take it all in. Too big a concept that you'll not be here.

So today I'm allowing myself the sharpness.

And three packs of peanut butter M&Ms.