Dear God, that was awful. I ripped it off like a bandaid. Just 1, 2, 3– f*ck.
And that’s how it felt. 1, 2, 3, f******ck.
How does one delete an important aspect of one’s life before preparing for the inevitable vortex of a void it creates? Rip it off. Like a bandaid.
And then pretend it’s dead. That it never existed. That it was all a dream. A dream that is just as relevant the following day as it was before it was had; that is to say: irrelevant.
How will this work? What will I do? Who will I be? How will I go on? What about my dreams? What about all this time and investment and love and hope and intimacy and connection?
Now it’s time to cocoon. Because that’s where one turns into a butterfly. Even if it can be gross and messy.