Memory by the pound

It's happening just like I thought it would.
I guess I shouldn't have expected anything less. Like I deserve some sort of get out of jail free card or pass go collect no heartache whatsoever.
I've begun to miss him.

And in my missing him, I feel like an inward traitor because I was so happy for a moment that I lied to myself in saying it would always feel like that so that nothing would take away from my then present elation. I was living, really living!

But as with all things, really living only stays on a seasonal basis. And there is no moon to regulate them for they are ersatz and willfully so.
It's as if the wonderful and beautiful season that was the two of us is still so freshly acute in my sense memory that I have yet to see how the benefit of its joy could ever wear off.

Only now it has. It really has.

I've come to the autoanalytical conclusion that I have only two capacities in feeling my emotions: not at all or with complete surrender. When I am in a place of nonreactivity it's typically the result of some former deflation brought about most likely by some disappointment or unfulfilled expectations. Thus I've managed to coach myself into disallowing expectations to be formed, therefore eradicating the pesky and rotten feeling of a knotty and poisonous stomach.
However, when I'm in a place of complete saturation in feeling my emotional state holistically, I am flying. I soar above worry and trifles. I soar above criticism and doubt. I soar above convention and I touch the meaning of God in some ways, just being that far removed while so intertwined.

At the point when I knew it was no longer for our mutual best that we stay each other's, I was unaware of the coming wave of overwhelming happiness that would result from such life accomplishments as graduation and promotion. And quite honestly, their afterglow is toxic in something of a trailing and infiltrating manner. Only now is that beautiful and euphoric smoke completely dissipated. And so I come into the day with nothing on my back but the burden of knowledge I gladly carry throughout my charmed life.
Only now I must add to the weight the knowledge of how alone and ignored you may have felt.
How completely abandoned and utterly insular you must have loathed to possibly be.
I would not impress upon you these feelings as they are but my own, meager guesses. And yet I feel them somewhat educated by the lessons I've learned from you since we became two completely separate pieces.

I couldn't feel the pain because I wanted to feel nothing but the happiness.
I was in such deep longing need of true and uninhibited glee and rapture that I closed myself off from feeling the rue and agony of my recent thrusts of a killing knife at love.
It was a love borne of space.
And it is that same space that now feeds into such anger. Such hostility. Such sorrow.

"God, why couldn't I have only found contentment in the honest simplicities?"
And yet that same voice prompts me to hold fast to the seasons as they are the only fact of the matter. Change is the only definite.

And with the definites come limitations.
And thus is my newfound plight: what was promised to be the purest of freedom has now become the sincerest of shackles.

And only now am I able to take on the full trudge of their icy weight.
And you are like a fellow prisoner, bound to me by the same chains only you hang below me, suspended in the cold, wet darkness. And you pull on me. You pull me down.
And the less and less you struggle, the heavier you seem to become.
And as the weight is my love, it is also the angst I feel in the absence of you.

To truly be missed, and to truly miss, there is none who can escape the chains.