If I Got a Nickel...

It hasn't even been two weeks yet and the questions keep surfacing, "Have you signed up for any dating websites?"

Time. It's what I need.

Instead, I'm being asked whether I plan on asking so and so out or getting back together with another ex. No & No & NO.

Why is it that people have a hard time with someone else being single? It's not like these people are spending lonely evenings with a pint of ice cream sitting in front of Degrassi re-runs.

I've done the whole rebound relationship before. And boy, did I learn my lesson! Spending an evening trying to locate the family of the rebound because he supposedly committed suicide after I dumped him...

Yeah, rebounds are out of the question.

Besides I have other things to focus on. A new job, starting my last year of college, letting my heart mend - All good things!

It's okay for me to take some time for myself. It's more than okay, it's good.

So leave me alone or you better start giving me nickels!

The Package

There's a package waiting by the door. I've been avoiding it all weekend.

But it has to go.

Inside, it contains all the DVD's that he lent me. Some we enjoyed together, others I was going to watch but never got around to. The shirt he handed me to wear that I couldn't get enough of. I can still remember how his smell lingered on it, long after it came home with me.

I hate letting you go.

And I hate bringing you back. When I send this out, I have to be the better person. Rather than letting it show up on his doorstep without a warning, I need to send him a message.

So the box just keeps sitting there.

I'm afraid that he'll respond and I'm afraid that he won't. Whether he does or not, it'll hurt just the same. Sending this box out feels like the last goodbye.

He wants to be friends; I'm not sure I can.

My dreams are in that box. Something I've never experienced with anyone else before. I've been let go and proceeded to get up early the next morning and take a run...like nothing ever happened. But something did happen this time, I gave my heart away.

So tomorrow I'll send him the box and just hope that he sends my heart back in return.

A Single Word

Single. It's a word that many people dread with all of the loneliness, social exclusion, and strange looks that it brings.

Single: A word I never feared...until now.

The word used to mean opportunity, options, and most importantly adventure. The single person can do what they like without consulting a partner. Nothing holds you back except for yourself when you're single.

I should feel excited. I've had those moments before when all of the sudden it seemed like I had flown free of the cage that held me.

But I don't feel excited.

It's not really even missing the person that I was with that makes me feel empty; it's the idea.

I thought I was done.

No more searching, no more long lonely nights, no more dealing with that silly question, “Why aren't you married yet?”

The word was scratched out of my vocabulary; it's meaning lost in a library long forgotten with all the other crumbling books of my past. But now, it's time for me to go back and find it again...

...And I am afraid.

Timing, Circumstances, and Moving On

Just over a week ago, I got the phone call that every person dreads. The one with the tone of voice that says “We need to talk.” A few short days before what would have been our one year anniversary, he let me go.

Timing. Circumstances. Never meant to be...

Each and every word of that call burned like acid through my chest. But the next morning I still got out of bed and still got dressed. Putting on my favorite dress, I determined that everything would be okay.

Unfortunately, that isn't how others feel. Those closest to me seem to be more upset, feel more betrayed, and more angry than I do. How can my feelings be explained?

There were no spoken promises, only ones that my heart filled in the blanks with. There were no broken promises either, only broken dreams.

I ache with the promises I longed for and still desire...

...But new dreams can be made and will be made.