Here's to a baggage-free 2006!

In three weeks' time, it’ll be a year since I first met Blackie. Over the holidays, I’ve been trying to rid my system of nano-traces of him. Been ragging on about him to my friends here at home. Even griped to the parental units about his permanent defection (not that there was anything remotely official and hence legitimate about the whole thing to begin with). I’m not taking any chances, hence all this. To me, it’s no issue that he went and got himself saddled with some brand new heavies. I see that it’s no longer his call. And if he might enjoy the ride, that’s his prerogative. God, for his sake, I hope he does. Bummer, don’t you just hate it when the withering of possibility happens? It’s just my luck that the person I once thought might just be the one to provide me with a glimpse of all things bright and beautiful goes and puts a damper on things. Checkmate. I can’t move. I can’t even feign nonchalance and carry on like the last time we spoke, lest I get sucked back into the black hole of blind want. Backtracking a bit, I unearthed this piece of prose I wrote a few months back. Think it’s a tad too graphic for my daytime taste, but it’s certainly indicative of the state of things in which I found myself wallowing then: “Shit happens. Just when you think you’ve finally licked the habit of endless reminiscence and the resulting self-annihilation, you find that you’ve become too complacent in your newfound sense of accomplishment that you overlook the puddle of dung you just stepped into. And though you might have cleaned off a bit, you find that the stench—permeating and overpowering—still clings to your clothes, rendering you immobile as you are brought back to thoughts of reminiscence and emotional harakiri… I have to admit, the analogy’s a bit off. Coz I wouldn’t consider anything about the quasi-affair with Blackie odorous in any way. But yeah, shit happens. It’s a universal fact.” Hah. So there. It’s an infinitely exhausting process. If you’re in a similar boat and you’ve managed to detoxify and clear up your system, consider yourself lucky. Some people never get out of it. Some people just can't take a clue and keep thinking night and day about their certain someone. The one that got away. And to think I once thought I was the one that scampered away baggage-free from it all. F*d up, I know. But I’m clean now. Shoulda been eons ago, sure, but being free of him now is all that matters. Adios, my friend. ***** It's gonna be a rockin' new year, I can just feel it. Bonne année 2006, everyone!