Bear With Me

Dear Lorenzo,

It's 11:08 p.m. and I feel like shit.

I'm not supposed to be writing you right now, I'm supposed to be reading.

For the most part, all of my days start in the exact same manner. I wake up, work out, shower, get breakfast and lunch together for Amira, and then wash the dishes and eat my breakfast while reading ten pages of a good book.

The ten pages was not my idea but that of Jeff Olsen, personal development guru and author of the most influential book I've ever read in my life: The Slight Edge. The book is all about making us happier, healthier, and more fulfilled human beings. I've read it at least ten times already, but I read it over and over and over and over again because I want this, its core message, to become a fundamental part of who I am: In order to live my life to the fullest, I have to work at my goals every, single day.

That being said, usually, by the time I've left the house in the morning, I've already accomplished a great deal on my daily to do list but today was different. I slept late and so I missed my morning workout. Missed my almost leisurely breakfast at home, and missed out on reading my mandatory ten pages of the day. Because of this, as soon as I got home from work, I did the dishes while talking to Mira about her day, cooked dinner, worked out, washed my hair and didn't sit down to read until a few minutes ago.

Having only gotten about halfway through my current chapter, I should still be reading right now but...I'm having trouble concentrating.

As you know, Danielle got me another job at Typenex. This time, I work with her in the office and I absolutely love it. I love having a reason to get up in the morning that isn't entirely Amira related. I love making my own money again. I love feeling like I'm a part of a team. But the thing I love most is my morning commute. I love riding the train into downtown Chicago every weekday. I love writing in my journal, people watching, and listening to 90's r&b for an uninterrupted 40 minutes at a time. But a few mornings ago, while listening to 112 and drifting off to the music, I felt someone watching me. Disturbed, I quickly opened my eyes, and saw the offending party. It was a man of course, and he was...FIIIINNNNEEEEEE.

I looked away from him quickly. I took out my book and pretended to read. I didn't dare look back in his direction and was relieved to get the fuck off the train because, again...he was FIIIINNNNEEEEE.

For the first time since you've been gone, I was...affected by another man. A man who isn't you. And though I didn't feel guilty about it, I did feel...scared.

And alive again.

Lorenzo, I don't want to date anyone right now. I'm JUST getting back on my feet again. I'm JUST starting to spend more time feeling good than bad but...the way I felt when you first died, the emptiness, the refusal to even look in another man's direction...that's starting to fade. Maybe I won't want to be alone for the rest of my life. Maybe, one day, I will want to be loved again.

I know you aren't mad at me for this. I know you love me and want me to be happy. I want me to be happy too. Maybe that will involve having another man in my life one day, or maybe it won't but...at least I'm ALMOST open to the opportunity.

And I truly believe that this doesn't make me a bad person.