She loves me

Her words came through the screen in my hands like a bolt of lightning. My brain sputtered and my thumbs fumbled, wrote something, backed up, wrote again, backed up, wrote again, and finally replied. 

She said she loves me. 

Those words were like a gullywasher to my parched soul. Like a cheeseburger to a POW. Of all the words I wanted to hear in this word, those were exactly it. I fell asleep with a smile on my face that night. And I slept like a baby. 

My writings here over the last 11 months have been a smattering of this and a smattering of that, though writing about her — the one I love — has predominated. My effusions about her have come in every shape and color. Looking back, some of what I've written is painful to read. Some of it makes my heart take flight. Some of it is merely notes on how I was doing at the time and no longer applies, but somehow she got tangled up in my mess. And that shouldn't be surprising. I was very messy for a very long time. Someone said I was unhealthy and obsessed. I can't disagree. I would add "pathetic." My desperation had become more palpable the more she inched away from my life. 

  
There's a quote that says, "I'm drowning and you're describing the water," something like that. My blog has been like that, only I'm the one both drowning and the one describing the water. Originally meant to chronicle my emotional upheavals and healing after my divorce, my blog eventually settled on the theme of losing a girl. For the second time. 

Her initial text message confounded me, but not because it had anything confounding in it. I've imagined her in my life so many times that when she actually texted me, I had to look it up and down to verify it really was real and not just my overactive imagination. 

It's safe to say I went off the deep end many times in my blog. While some of it may have been hyperbole, I can say with 100 percent sincerity that what I've written is true. I've lived it, after all. Feelings are hard to describe. Should I say I was shattered or that I was sad? Which creates a better image in the reader's mind? 

I realize there is some entertainment value here. Who is this freak? Will he get the girl? Will he move on? Will he fall in love again? Will he ever stop whining? To tell the truth, I'm curious about the answers to all of those questions too. I'm not in any hurry to speed up the process, but I am invested in the story, which is quite a miracle in itself. The next few years of my life may be very interesting. Or they may be incredibly boring. I may continue to write about my girl Cindy, or I may choose to write about my exfoliating Epsom salt baths infused with lavender and tea tree essential oils and organic, free-range bubble-bath soap. Stay tuned. 

Since I'm on the cusp of writing 200 posts since Jan. 28 of this year, and since there has been so much drama in so many of them, forgive me for a moment if I have a little fun with this one. And forgive me for a moment if I continue to smile for no reason, for only I (and now some nameless readers) know the reason why today of all days I'm smiling. Because she loves me.