Two and a Half Years

Two and a half years is a long time.  That was the relationship halflife of a breakup.  I didn't mean to, but somehow, I think I held on to the ashes of what was for longer than I needed to.  Because I knew if I didn't there would be nothing else to hang on to.

I've let go.  It doesn't matter anymore.  But that's the depressing thing: it doesn't matter anymore.  I can't even remotely think that she's worth the effort of reaching my hand out in friendship.  That's not how it works.

She is there in the past, and that's all she will ever be.  A ghost of days gone by.

I'm terrified of the future, because there's just so much possibility.  There's a girl I now am cautiously optimistic about.  I'm hesitant to say I love her, but I can see myself spending the rest of my life with her.  but I worry that I am not good enough for her.  She's smarter than I am.  I never worried about that before, as I never found myself lacking before.  But I like being with her.  And that, despite all my fears, is enough for now.

-R-