Nice to see you again. Follow me, @SydneyOwen. Thanks for being here!
They don’t tell you about this part. They don’t tell you about the part that rips the rug out from under you and the part that makes you question who you were or who you are.
This isn’t what you sign up for.
But this is part of it.
With any great risk there comes great reward. In this case, great risk was putting myself out there for all of it. In this case, the great risk was letting down a wall that was most definitely set in stone and concrete and sheet metal and rebar and any other reinforcing material. The risk this time was revisiting a story from the past. The risk this time was believing in something that hadn’t even had the chance to develop. The risk this time was really being me. And not apologizing. And not worrying about the scary shit.
And if I was given the chance, I wouldn’t change a thing.
I write this post without a single photo to document our time together. Not one snapshot to validate that he was actually here and that we actually took a stab at this. I write this post with only the visual and emotional context of this weekend, no physical proof that it actually happened.
But it did.
Life, like love, is a fickle, fickle bitch. You can plan and hope and predict and dream and wish until you’re blue in the face but at the end of the day, it is what it is. It is. Or it isn’t. And there isn’t a single damn thing I can do to change that.
I told my dad in January that this weekend would be life-changing. And it was.
I now have yet ANOTHER dimension to add to what I need. I have another bullet to add to what I have to offer. By all means, by any preset definiton, this should (could and would) be a total fail.
But it’s not.
We may not be redefining “epic” in the context that I THOUGHT we would, but I’d be an idiot to ignore what is happening.
So, I don’t know where things are headed, but I’m okay.