This is the first day of the rest of my life. This is the day when it all starts for me.
How many times have I said that? How may times have I followed through……………..a lot less times than I have puttered out….dieing down to the humdrum monotonous life I have been leading for the past few years. Monotonous not in terms of most.
Major move to fresh city, drunken nights dancing, random boys a screwing, and a partridge in a pear tree (please excuse the contradictory religious reference - but Jews are not known for their catchy holiday tunes, minus the Hanukkah song of course).
It started three weeks ago – the unfortunate series of events leading up to me reevaluating the writing I had started in February after a certain incredible concert by the one and only JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE, a man whom I still waiting to receive a present from ……….. in MY box!
I had lost touch once again with the inspiration I had discovered watching this man sing his heart out on the piano.
I was a robot.
Three weeks ago I discovered that the man whom I was waiting for; the man whom I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW I was waiting for, was engaged.
I can’t tell you what I felt at that moment, other than complete loss of hope. And a physical piercing through my heart down into the pit of my stomach through my spine up over my head and squeezed out through multitudes of wet sloppy tears.
He was never going to drive down to DC and take me in his arms and laugh about our time apart. He was never going to share with me the moment that he knew I was the girl he wished to be awoken by every morning.