feral and free

I think maybe my heart has been in hiding, knowing this day was fast approaching, whether I wished for it to or not.  I owe that last bit of restraint to this new self (not one that I particularly like I might add), the pseudo-independent who hides all the questionable feelings inside and stays positively bright. Oprah would call me a smiler. 

I'm having a hard time reconciling with my decision. I have 36 hours to let it sink in, to make peace with my little boy. My rational mind may have thought having the choice would make it less painful but my emotional heart is shaking a finger and mouthing "I told you so."

I've made a decision and its with a heavy heart, and a heavy head. I want to cry, I can feel it building up inside the upper regions of my mind meets brain circling the lobes, focused on the one that logically pulled the trigger. And frankly am amazed that I haven't erupted into a tearful disaster; that my heart has not already broken into a million tiny pieces. 

The decision waits in the wings: to let my 18+ year companion go, so that he can find peace from discomfort and pain, and journey to a quiet place so that he can be wild and feral and free. 

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