A Letter From Self

I remember trying to gather my thoughts, or at minimum; I wanted to gather my sanity and find out how to maintain at least a semblance of self and appear sane. But I am not sane. I am not crazy or so crazy because I would rather believe that love is real or that love can exist, even in the imperfections of life or that two people can fit perfectly, despite their dissimilar edges. But ah, that distant definition of sanity was all too crazed and all too far and all too blurry for me to see clearly. This is it . . .This is the jumping point or the platform to which we can either springboard or dive and fall and hit the bottom of our doubts. Such is life in the aftermath of breakups and diovorce. And such are the fears of being umatchable and unwanted.Such are the feelings that come when we find out that our truth was based on a lie, and such are the realizations that nothing was true (or real) enough and hence, the life we thought we had was nothing close to what it was. And what was…