Poison Poison

I don’t know what I want to title the first post of the New Year. It’s been a long while, but I’ve learned that I become the most inspired at the end of the year, the first of the year, when the first flower blossoms, and when the first leaf from a tree falls. I had wondered if I’d learned anything, really. What could I take away from this swift year? It had been a short one, and yet, here I am. A couple of pounds gained, a few more clothes, a new furry friend… I couldn’t have been the person I had started last year with.

What I do know is that the one thing I had prided myself on, the one thing I had wanted, the one thing that drove me through this world, is something I no longer crave or long for anymore. I don’t want love. Well, maybe I had changed. I don’t want it like I used to. It used to consume me. I dreamed of when and where I’d meet “the one.” The pit in my stomach and knowing that the person before me would be the person I’d spend the rest of my life with. The stupid little visions of me laughing until I had cried. The holding hands and talking until I my throat grew sore. The little trinkets we’d buy each other because “that made me think of you.” The quiet and comfortable moments we’d share that were ours and didn’t belong to anyone else. I had written about it over and over again. Love was the theme of my life, and I didn’t want it to be anymore. I don’t care, nor do I want it to be a central topic of what I write anymore. I had love. I am it.

I had seen too much last year. The shadows of what people thought love was and endured, wrapping those shadows around their shoulders and tugging them close, didn’t appease me. It didn’t move me. I had seen a lot of pain and the constant taking and never giving. I didn’t want someone to take all of me, to drain me to nothing.

I told myself I’d wait. I’d wait for kindness, softness, and the warmness they (whoever) would give. I’d wait on the person who was my equal, and I would be okay with being alone because I knew. I knew that this shit wasn’t what was all that had been left for me. I don’t want shadows. I will no longer entertain them or make the central topic the central theme of my life anymore. And so, I don’t care about love. Fuck it.

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The Bug Collector