yeah, so i'm in love. that comfortable, easy-going kind of love where embarrassing things begin to not be embarrassing. that less scary phase when you don't feel the need to be with someone 24/7 or make dramatic romantic gestures. that unrushed kind of love. things are different with d... he's his own person. i don't feel the need (or desire) to make him into someone he isn't. i respect him because he's a strong, opinionated (omg), upstanding man. i suspect that part of my initial attraction to him was reactionary; his dissimilarity to bk is unbelievable. that said, i'm a better person with d. ultimately i think i love him most because he challenges me in areas that i was complacent in my relationship with bk.
i think the lack of struggle is making me feel guilty and off-kilter again. i can't get over these feelings of regret for who i was with/to r. he wasn't always bk, and while he has always been one of the most passive people you'll ever meet, he certainly didn't deserve (then) the unattainable standards i set for him. i've gotten past angry. and jealous. and irritation. and surprise. but, i just can't seem to get past the guilt thing.
i have a really hard time writing when i'm happy. things just don't flow in the same easy way. i've always wanted (needed) something to struggle against in order to be creative. even when i've been in love before (aside from r) i've chosen people who are wrong or angsty or far away. i spent the summer before i was married 'with' a close friend who lived far away. i cried ever time i left him. and every time i came home i wrote more prolifically than i ever had (and have, excluding the year after bk left). it's a good feeling. but not so good as to make me ruin the best thing around. i'll have to start telling some of those old stories i guess.
i think the lack of struggle is making me feel guilty and off-kilter again. i can't get over these feelings of regret for who i was with/to r. he wasn't always bk, and while he has always been one of the most passive people you'll ever meet, he certainly didn't deserve (then) the unattainable standards i set for him. i've gotten past angry. and jealous. and irritation. and surprise. but, i just can't seem to get past the guilt thing.
i have a really hard time writing when i'm happy. things just don't flow in the same easy way. i've always wanted (needed) something to struggle against in order to be creative. even when i've been in love before (aside from r) i've chosen people who are wrong or angsty or far away. i spent the summer before i was married 'with' a close friend who lived far away. i cried ever time i left him. and every time i came home i wrote more prolifically than i ever had (and have, excluding the year after bk left). it's a good feeling. but not so good as to make me ruin the best thing around. i'll have to start telling some of those old stories i guess.