Sunday, January 22, 2012

Only Tricks. No Treats.

When my ex and I first split, I told him I'd never have anyone to love again because he took it all, that I had given him all the love I was allotted in my lifetime and that I'd never be able to love again.  That's how I felt at the time.  I just really felt like I could never love again and by love again, I mean not even love HIM again.  My love was gone. Just poof.  He used it all.  I think it was gone before the marriage even ended.  He had wrung every drop of love from my heart and left nothing and he went on to the next.  I think that's why my heart didn't break like I would have expected because there was nothing there before the split happened.

Since then, there were a a few moments I thought I could maybe I could love again, but I realized that those moments were more about wanting to feel normal.  I'm back to thinking that I'm out of love to give.  It's like it's Halloween and I'm hiding in the basement with my porch light off and my blinds shut tightly against the trick or treaters because I gave all the candy to the first kid that showed up.  He was adorable in his little Batman outfit and I was like HERE! Take it ALL!!  I don't even WANT the other kids to have candy because you're IT man! That costume is the freaking bees knees.  Then the little fucker kicked me in the shin and stole my jack-o-lantern.

I loved my ex freely and without shame.  I loved him hard and I loved him as best I could.  I loved him with my whole soul and heart.  I LOVED him.  Everyone who knew me knew this.  I saw those burning red flags with the bio-hazard signs on them.  One came in the form of an anonymous letter to me just a few months after we were married.  Yet, I loved him.  And he left.  And he left me looking like the fool.

Everyone knows that saying "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me."  I don't know if I can let love make me look like a fool a second time. 

The basement has cable and internet.  The trick or treaters will get the hint eventually.


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