It‘s totally different for everybody. It is the same thing in the end. We are over 40. We are over the Half of our life. The regrets of what wasn‘t. The regrets of what was. The regrets of what could have been. They all creep up on you one night after a bottle of Retsina. That bottle of wine. The one that is a reminder of being invited to Greece from a man who had a crush on you for 20 years. That reminds you of all the days of love and pain in those 20 years. Every drop for a week… every week for a cell of my body until there is a large chunk gone and I am wondering how I am going to survive floating in my own space while the sharks swim around the stars searching for a bleeding soul like mine.
Those days are gone and my heart feeling all of it. My heart thinks its 20 years ago and I can still go back. I can go back to that night on the beach where it all began. Back to the day when it almost all ended so that I wouldn‘t be sitting here tonight in this drunken stupor writing my story. I survived. That is a difference between me and everybody else. My story is not like any one else’s.
I have made life altering decisions due to fear, due to love. Some enlightened me. Some almost killed me. I have traveled to another country for love and gave everything away for that ideal. That ideal that was a mirage in the wake of a loneliness that I was avoiding. 14 years later it smashed down on me and while I was getting my bearings, I didn‘t see the sandy shores that I was to be washed up on.
I am wet, tired and alone. I am learning that we are all essentially alone. My story is different than anyone else’s, but everyone’s story is different than anyone else’s and everyone has a story of their own. This is mine.
-Not necessarily Non-Fiction.*