Guess who took care of you

Drowning is as good of a time as any to remember you have two capable, strong arms that will maneuver you to the surface long enough to catch your breath. I'm floating, bobbing really. The equivalent of when I was a child and would swim in the neighborhood pool. I would lay on my back and let the red seaweed of my hair fan out around my head. My eyes were just barely underwater looking up; I could breath easily but a wavering sheen covered my eyes and made everything into a watercolor. You can't hear anything really, just the thick sounds of the pool filter clicking and whirring, maybe far away murmurs and splashing. I feel this way now; head underwater but still capable of normal respiration. I want to work, really I do, but being home feeds into my true desire to live the life of a merry shut-in. I was looking into having my groceries delivered, the only time I could see myself leaving my home is to get on a plane and travel to some foreign place. I do feel robbed sometimes, stolen from. What he did to me was a different violation than just having my car rifled through or stolen. He took something from me that I had made in my heart for him and him alone. I had a comb in my heart packed with sweetness and secrets and love and he just opened me up and harvested what he wanted and left. The hive is no longer buzzing, the bees have withered. Their queen is dead. 

I'll remember forever, I'll be the martyr who "took one for the team." I'll carry my hurt and move it to different anatomical locations until the site is sore and swollen and then I'll move it again. "It's the movie that never gets filmed, it's the story that we won't tell." 

Maybe I'll get over it, maybe I won't. Maybe I'll let someone in, most likely I won't. I keep trying, trying to make myself better in other ways. She said "in another year it won't matter" and I know she is right, what is a year in my life? A blip. I yearn for the simpler times and yet during the heydey of my simpler times I ached for the kind of life I have now. I wrote countless letters to myself back then promising I would be the person that surprisingly enough I have turned out to be. The only thing I hadn't counted on was how non dependent I am on other people. It comes off as cold and bitter and whatever but its the truth, I could live alone and Thoreau my way through life and that is probably where I am headed. I want to be alone. I need to be by myself sometimes. I am the subject I know best.