Everything Changes

I left the apartment that night with only a few items…one of them being the shattered vase. I had no other family and only a few friends that existed as jpgs and icons on my laptop. Since I had my own personal accounts and credits cards, I had nothing holding me back except the haunted loss of our relationship. Maybe if I was like the popular guys in high school who could shrug off their relationships like they were a speck on the wall and never thinking back.

I had a hard time doing that.
We had been together for almost two years and, yes, in the grand scheme of things that amount of time is like a snap of the fingers—down and over—but in my lesser stage of things those two years were 63,072,000 seconds that I devoted to one man.
When out at the clubs, others looked at me, I’m sure they did, but I didn’t notice.
The server at the restaurant once flirted with me—it took me a few months before I figured out that he didn’t give me the free appetizer because he knew I was a good tipper.
But no, as much as being bombarded by others around me, I was oblivious to any of their advances as they’re was only one person in my lifeL the person who came to my defense when someone shoved me down at a local bar. He didn’t raise his voice or throw one punch—but the other guy knew to stand down.
I guess I didn’t know when to do so either, but it took two years before I would identify his narcissistic and controlling behavior. What some would say as narcissistic, I dismissed as determination. Controlling? Taken as a comforter; a protector: two signs of a lover, as a potential life mate.

So, please excuse me if I was blinded by the rose-colored glasses of love, passion and lust.

But…here I was, driving away from Memphis and into northeastern Mississippi with no clear destination in heart.