Free falling

Looking back at some of my blog posts, I realize that I’ve allowed myself to be sad for too long. Yeah, I’d have brief bouts of happiness, but they’d be overcome by long stretches of sadness in between. I even started to welcome the sadness right in, if only because there was a slight chance that I’d be happy at some indeterminate point in the future.

I’m still sure ending the recent pseudorelationship was the mature-slash-the-right thing to do. I’m telling you, it sure took a hell lot of guts, to see someone you care for leave. I was so sure that was it. I was watching the one walk away.

But I agreed to do it anyway, not because I wanted him to run after me—that wasn’t even in my wildest dreams—but because I knew I had to stop myself from sinking deeper into sadness just so I can get a few minutes of happiness. I don’t know exactly what love means, just that it’s supposed to hurt sometimes. And I was in pain pretty much half the time.

“We accept the love we think we deserve.” I never really understood what this meant. Now I understand that maybe it’s about allowing yourself to take all the pain that comes along with the love. For a while I was willing to take both the pain and the love in, but then it became unbearable and I had to grapple for the exit sign faster than I could hold my breath. 

Now that someone’s taking me along on another ride, I can’t help but wonder if this is the kind of love I deserve.

He’s incredible (only because I have no other word for it) in every way, and everything’s been great, and (again, for a lack of better word) I’m just happy…That’s precisely why I can’t help but ask: Isn’t this much more than what I should be getting? Am I way out of my league? Am I too unsure? A little too rash? Taking things a bit too fast?

You see, I’d been sad for quite a while and I’m not even used to writing about how happy I am. And the moment I start becoming genuinely happy, I start doubting myself. And the nagging thought that this is not permanent or that I’ll be sad soon starts creeping in.  I won’t even try to deny it: I’m scared.

But. It looks like things are finally looking up. Maybe I finally get to be happy. Maybe it’s finally about time I stop second guessing myself and just fucking go for it. Maybe it’s time to free fall.