How Is It That?-?-?

Teary Days….

It began yesterday…

I noticed my ring was gone. It had never left my hand since I placed it on there in June of 2003.  The ring symbolized the physical distance between the woman I loved and where I lived.

It was simple sterling silver band with a groove down the center. Each half symbolizing one of us and held together by the love we shared.

And it turned out to be unrequited. For soon after I realized she was ashamed of me wanting to keep me in my world and never to visit or be a part of hers. I really suffered during that time, my self esteem plummeted to an all time low. I allowed her to do things I allow no one else to and still remain the focus in my life.  I stayed too long.

After she went back to her world, the ring was just as powerful to me. For only twice have I been in love, and I do love like a parent. Meaning that no matter what, the love for a child never wanes or dies. Mine has never waned or died for either of the two women of my past.

So the ring began to symbolize the two ladies, and I – the bottom that held the two sections together, was the love that neither of them will ever lose.

The ring was also a thing that the last love had touched. When we held hands or kissed, she touched the ring. And the ring touched her as we made love, walked, or even just lay close.

I have been upset ever since noticing it gone. And I have hunted for it. But with no luck so far. I feel like a part of me is gone. A part of us. A part of the whole thing that is my life.

Then today, I contacted the one place that I have been happiest at the longest. My old high school. If I had my way I would never have left those grounds. I did though. And I want so desperately to be there again. So I am trying to get a trip together for the spring. Maybe during Easter break.  I would rather have two afternoons there with no one around. To sit on the bridge, and see if my special place in the woods still survives.  To take some pictures and to sit and write.

I was writing to the school to see where they would recommend that I stay, and to ask them about some other things that would make my trip easier. I just wanted to cry the whole time I wrote the short email.

The school like bourbon street seems to live within me. Even though the schools and the streets were opposite affects on my time, they call me back.

I have been back to the realm of the bad.

Now I beg god to allow me to live long enough to return to the realm of the good.

This night I am filled with depression…