Wednesday, February 3, 2010

doors

while i was at university, i dedicated a semester to studying marguerite duras. she is still one of my favorite writers and i remember parting with some of my limited cash to buy a hard back edition of the lover. over the years, i thought i had lost this edition until the best friend delivered it to me a few days ago....courtesy of a former lover. it seems that i had left it at his place....you know....like over 10 years ago. i was more than a bit surprised that he hadn't thrown it away....particularly when he contacted me last year and i told him that i wasn't interesting in knowing him as a person.

he isn't the first former lover to contact me years later and i had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't a "lets be friends" kind of contact, but more of a "i-have-regrets-and-you-were-the-one-that-got-away-kind-of-thing." while i don't have any firm evidence of this...more of a feeling than anything else...but my feeling is still pretty much the same....which is "you miss me? over 10 years later? well, that is just too bad. you should have treated me better. take some responsibility for your actions. suck it up and be a man."

oh life. sometimes you are so funny.

i've carried the book with me for the past few days and have been reading bits and pieces of it during my recent travels and adventures. it is my last day of vacation and i am sitting in bittersweet cafe, enjoying my cup of bittersweet hot chocolate (see above image) and i am thinking of this particular quote from the lover:

"I've never written, though I thought I wrote, never loved, though I thought I loved, never done anything but wait outside the closed door."

this used to be me.

i used to be waiting outside that closed door....that door within myself. i would write just enough and love just enough....but the door would remain closed. firmly closed. i was fearful of opening that door and being bombarded with so much potential sadness, disappointment, and hurt that it would knock me to my knees.....and i feared that once the bombing suspended....that i would be left there....in that spot just outside the now the open door.....irrevocably broken.

i know that this no longer applies to me.....and me....being me.....typically decided that when it was time to open the door....i didn't slowly inch it open.

of course, me being me....i just had to blow up the door.

figures.

now here i am....and there is no door.

am i on my knees just outside the doorway?

yes i am.

do i feel hurt unlike any hurt that i have ever felt before?

yes i do.

do i find it difficult to breathe at times?

yes.

does it feel overwhelming?

yes.

am i
irrevocably broken?

no, i am not.

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