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Here is what I think about at 3 A.M.

I’m being replaced. This is not new, I’ve been here so many times it looks familiar. I know what I am supposed to do, to say, what not to say, I even know how much it is supposed to hurt. But what I always seem to forget, is how long it will hurt. Just a few more treasures to add to my ‘love more than anything but can barely stand to face on a good day’ list. Its James Taylor and IKEA all over again.

I was far, far away last time I got replaced and I remember thinking what a blessing that was. To be so far away, you can’t see what is happening, and you are far enough from the epicenter that the ripples have lost their impact once they hit you. That is how I survived. It was not until I was close again that I realized the repercussions don’t fade, they are just delayed, but you will feel every single one of them just the same. 2 years later and 5 times longer.

Maybe this time will be better. The south might protect me from the consequences of my choices, at least for a little while. But inevitably, my impeccable retention of all details will follow me wherever I go. I will still have a hard time with left hands, the smell of cherry chapstick, and Schnitzel. I don’t think time heals all wounds, we just relive them long enough that they become a part of our landscape, our identity.

And I don’t hate theses experiences, if they mean I am alive, that I have loved enough to feel the difference when things change. And to taste, perhaps for the first time in my life, deepest loneliness, though I am surrounded by people who care. I have a greater sense of empathy for those hearts that are hurting though their other dreams are still being realized.

This is just a little of what keeps me up at night.