He's alive. I'm alive. He's travel back today from Maine, as I request off work to go to Maine for Christmas. Is this my life? Is this what I want for my life? And yeah, it is. In many ways, I've wanted this and hoped for something like this. I hope it keeps growing and stays in this happy place. There is an evil part of me that wants him to fail, that seeks out his mistakes and decides magnify his (FEW!) flaws. I guess because I'm comfortable with that. I'm comfortable with loss and disappointment, and this happiness and lightness isn't meant for me. I wasn't meant to be in anything resembling healthy. I'm old. I'm used up. I've lost every ounce of romantic ideals that I've had. I'd already decided that my romantic future was doomed. I was meant to be alone and revel in that. I'd bought a house, gotten a dog, made the friends, booked the trips, and cemented myself a woman on her own. A permanent fixture as a 3, 5, 7th wheel. The dating apps were loooong dropped. There was no reason to fight against a situation that I'd made for myself. Our futures are the result of our choices, the tiny ones and the big ones all compounding together, and then you have this mixture. Do you like that recipe? How's it taste?! You only have yourself to blame because you're the one that made it.
So, it's a little odd to be paired now, and it's scary to maybe, someday lose this. I don't want to be the one to wreck anything like I have in the past.
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