On Having Always Been Old

I'd like to believe that I could blame this on the fact that I'm getting older, but the reality is that it's just not true: I've always been this way. I've been noticing a lot lately how I'll be walking down the street and having a thought about something that I think would make a fine journal entry and then, of course, I forget about it long before I ever get it down.

Mostly that has to do with the fact that I no longer have the really nifty digital recorder that Gavan bought me for our last Christmas together. It's really the last nice thing he bought me, and I managed to lose it during my travels this past summer. Which really breaks my heart - first because that was a really useful tool, and second because it was the last thing he bought me before we started unconsciously disconnecting ourselves in preparation for the break-up I think we both knew was coming. So it had sentimental value.

I've been thinking a lot lately about why I've been so melancholy regarding relationships, and I have to admit to having wallowed in self-pity. I guess we all do that sometimes, but looking back, I wonder if I haven't been doing it for the entire two years since breaking up with Gavan. I can't believe it's been that long, frankly.

Someone told me not long ago that it takes as long as you were in a relationship to get over it. If that's the case, I've got another 2½ years to go. Don't think I'm happy about that, either.