So, I did something that I probably shouldn't have done. It wasn't my place to do it and it certainly wasn't something I needed to do. But I did it, anyway. Why? Well, that's a little complicated.
Four years ago, after essentially beating stage four renal cell cancer, a brain tumor, and ovarian cancer, someone I cared about died unexpectedly from a brain hemorrhage. Another friend is continually battling cancer and is too weak to even appreciate life right now. Another friend just buried her husband after succumbing to illness. And right now, my own cat, my bud, Oscar, is suffering from a tumor in his belly. Who knows how many good days he'll have left.
I've been struggling for the last year and a half with getting things to a manageable point. I haven't talked about it in depth, but it's pretty obvious what has been going on and that in itself is another reason why I did what I did. That chapter is coming to a close and unfortunately, I screwed up the ending to another one in January.
You see, I let someone get away. Forced them actually. I saw something that I hadn't seen in my entire life and it burned me inside and out. It was, what I thought, was the definition of what we all hope to find in this world. And, like an impatient fool, I couldn't wait until the timing was right. I wasn't patient enough to make sure I had a path of no resistance to reach them. Even though I was given clear and present authority to do so, I was... am... still in a place where it isn't the best time to pursue it. And as the days dragged on and I felt the pressure of knowing what I could have, I pushed harder and in ever more increasing intensity until they hit against me like a tennis ball hits the wheel of a launcher and spun them right out of my life at break neck speed.
After three months of continuing to rebuild my identity, the one I really am inside, getting back out into the mix and basically healing myself, I came to a crossroads. Did I say all that was needed to say? Should I even bother. It's obvious that I was too eager and they were simply not interested. Or scared. Or both. But, as sure as I was about them at the time, I really am not ready to be anywhere other than in my own skin at the time being. So, which path do I take? Do I continue down the road of self discovery or do I take the dangerous path of reopening old wounds and making matters worse?
I went both ways. But even as I have learned to temper my emotions and listen to that voice that tells me, "Maybe that's a bit too much", I also know that I am basically a hopeless romantic about things in this world, so I did what I did.
I did what I did with really no chance or desire to be recognized, though I gather they probably know who sent the message because of the way it was sent.
And I did it, even though three months ago I was given a clear and succinct response to whether or not that type of interaction was even wanted.
And I did it, because no matter how many months or years go by while we may not continue to speak, I still cannot get out of my system that awakening I had with them.
I did it because even if I have to do things anonymously, against better judgment, and without hope of reconciliation, tomorrow is not promised and I don't want to leave anything unsaid, even if it's just something like "Happy Birthday."