A piece of wood caught me in the heel of my thumb a few days ago. Years ago, when I was a child, my dad would have gotten out his pocket knife and dug the splinter out as I shrieked in fear and uncertainty. Now, I am waiting for my body to push it out. Because it will. Foreign substance...it will get spit out of me at some point. I keep my eye on it...waiting.
Same thing goes for this love bug I caught. I am waiting for my soul to spit it out. It's been such a difficult journey. Yes, there are a good many things to have come from it. But, my efforts have gone unrewarded and that stinks. There's no other way to say it. In time, could my crush come around? Yes, I suppose so. But, it's hurting me and I have to decide when to stop that. When to get the pocket knife and dig that ache out of me.
Like the wood in my thumb, I wait for it to be purged by natural instincts. And maybe that will happen. I know the splinter will leave my thumb, because I have experienced this before. And I know that the infatuation will fade. Patiently, I look for progress in that direction. But, it seems like the more I watch, the more the piece of wood settles in-no longer puckered red, but seeming to be a part of me. Same as the crazy infatuation that travels each day with me. Not boiling over, and yet never steaming away to thin air.
I'm learning to live with both of them in the interim. Or I think I must be. Sometimes it feels like I'm just breathing through it. And maybe that's the best I can hope for at the moment.