Voluntary Solitary Confinment

Let me be clear.

I’m not depressed. I’m not so broken hearted that the very thought of human affection and companionship makes me want bind my heart in barbed wire, lock it in a safe and throw the key in the ocean. I believe in love like I believe in air.  Which is also the problem.  I’ve been in love twice and both those times I came out broken into pieces that I never thought I could be put together again. When I love someone, I mean it. I throw myself into getting to know them so much so that I weld myself into their very being and vice versa. I try to make them feel how much I love them unconditionally. I conjure dreams of our happily ever after. I just “know” they’re my other, my person. But that also means I ignore the end signs. I see them as minor roadblocks when really it’s the end of the tunnel. I try to be a trooper. The “ride or die” if you will. But almost always the word’s come. Apprehensively. With promises of us remaining “best friends” and to always love each other no matter what. And I agree because the thought of having them leave so abruptly out of my life, so permanently; it will leave me more than shattered and with no hope for us realizing we were standing in front of the right one all along; that we were too blind to see that the love we yearned for was staring us in the face. That sounds nice. But reality says otherwise and when you need move on, something will make you if you refuse. I’ve realized that the shattering is good. I don’t need a break, I need a shatter. I don’t want long winded explanations. I don’t need sorry flaccid excuses for reasons why and how we’re going to remain friends but you need to “do your own thing”. Say bye. Be solid be firm. You want to leave, leave. Don’t stand in the doorway; don’t linger in case you don’t like what’s in the hallway.


I don’t want to get over him by getting under someone else. I don’t want a distraction. I don’t want to have meaningless sex. I don’t want to add to the list of things that I need to avoid in order to not let the anchor of the past pull me into an abyss of regret and sadness and the urge to send a text that I’ll regret vehemently after the sun rises. I’m at the point in my life where I really and truly want to just discover things about myself that I couldn’t being that I focused so much of my attention to build a relationship with them. I write so passionately about them. The pain they make/made me feel is almost limitless and I could describe it perfectly. But paragraphs on myself don’t have an ounce of that emotion. At least in my head they don’t. I want to speak with confidence and assuredness when I talk about myself. I want the words to form and  build an image with my crown held high and proud above all others around me. So this is why I need the loneliness. I need the solitude. I need to be able to know how and why I’m feeling how I feel when I feel it. I need to hear and be able to actively listen when God speaks in me. I need to know why the grass forces it’s way out of the sidewalk cracks just to kiss my feet. So please don’t just tell me I need to go on dates or I need to entertain the men who manage to grace me with attention at the club, in the street or at a party. Don’t tell me I should meet your friend because you think we’ll click. Don’t tell me I’m sad and depressed and I need to get over it. I’m embracing it. I’ll gladly meet new people. I’ll go out I’ll dance I’ll have all of the fun. But it ends there. I don’t want to get to know you. I don’t want you to get to know me. I don’t want your number. If I do decide I want to get to know you more, I promise ill ask.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s