March 11, 2009

At Long Last

I'm sitting outside the choir room. I love the sound of a choir. It's so beautiful. The choirs were my favorite part of the orchestra performance last week. Music is how I self-medicate. It moves me. It brings tears at times, fuels my fury at others. I love the way music portrays emotion. And I prefer to feel my emotions fully, especially my sadness.

I wrote my first song Saturday. I take that back. I wrote one last summer at Church Camp. But this is the first decent one.

Saturday night, I got the definitive we're-not-getting-back-together from Seth. I thought I'd cry all night. Finally I got up and started writing. By the time I finished, I was able to sleep.

I cried less this time than I did when I broke up with him. I think in some very small way, I was relieved. It wasn't what I wanted, but it was something concrete.

All the back and forth and uncertainty did a number on me. I was so torn up about it constantly. At last, I have some closure. Now I can move on, be free of the worry and pain that threatened to rip my heart in two.

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