In The Pavement (ITP)

petal one: 27 | part 1

27.

  This was a number of positivity. A number that was mine and mine only. It was the start. A saving grace. It was a birthday. A special occasion or memory of any kind that came to me unexpectedly. The best ones usually do.

 But, before I continue, maybe I should explain to you why I chose to replace 'chapter' with 'petal'. Stay with me. If you've ever felt stuck before at any capacity in life, taken one too many on the chin, suppressed an overwhelming emotion(s), feeling helpless and/or hopeless, that is my idea of what being in the pavement is. You could be anything, like a beautiful flower for example. Something that deserves to be shown. Something that is deserving of its own place to grow and take care of itself, or better yet, have others care for it every so often. Whether we like it or not, we find ourselves growing through a crack. Surviving above ground to everyone around us. Bet that's what they'd think right? Maybe they think they know what lies beneath the lines of the pavement we found ourselves in. Maybe they don't. Maybe we're not so sure of it ourselves. To each their own, but I found it easier to pick the petals off of my own flower as it grew to be hopeful or open. This is my way.

  Starting by picking off the first petal talking about how one single symbol can start to mean all the wrong things to you. We all have that one. Like I mentioned earlier, the number 27 held a such significance to me that couldn't be replaced. It's such an odd number to hold and keep for myself. And be that as it may, I think it was a nicer feeling to embrace something so odd. A number no one talked about much. I mean, It's there and holds its spot on the number line like it's supposed to. That's how I felt about myself; odd, but still sticks around.

 I met someone. Someone I'd hoped I hadn't dreamt up. He was everything I wanted. Needing him would come later. He was real in spirit, but wasn't himself most days. I thought that was okay. Some people get sick of being who they really are or building and transforming this idea of themselves only meant for the outside world. I am guilty of doing both myself. It's easier to manage some days than others, but you start off able at first, and in time comes the willingness to accept the not so great parts of another person. But time showed me that it was always going to be on my side if I used it correctly. I did what I could for us in that time, but it only revealed ugly truth after ugly truth. Some that maybe I chose to ignore from the beginning. 

 Being too hopeful will be a running theme in this story. I tried to be an example in the relationship we were building together. Give him something he never had before or had gone without in his life. Give him someone he'd grow to appreciate so much that through the trials and tribulations, that we'd blossom into something great. Not perfect, but something close to it; great. Maybe time was making an example of me. For choosing neglect even if I didn't know I was at the time, simply because I refused to take off my rose colored lenses around him. Then, the mess started making itself.

 It was the 27th on a summer month when I continued to feel neglected, except this time, I wasn't doing it to myself. It had been put on me. It wouldn't be the first sight of betrayal I had felt from him. I was still working through some things on my own since, but this incident that followed would hurt the most. All found in a phone and receipt after receipt in a span of months made me wish the man who had my heart and then some was a dream after all. And, the dream I thought I was living would be nothing short of a wonderland that turned into a hellish nightmare I was hoping to shake myself awake from. 

 I don't like to say things if I don't mean them, so I had put it all out on the table. Every piece of me. There was one thing I said that I meant in the moment. I should've meant it. He wouldn't have been able to feel what I felt in it's truest form, but it would've been a start.

"You gotta go."

 And rightfully so. But, he didn't. Why? Because I didn't let him. I still can't decide to this day if I was making a mistake or not. Being nice is in my nature and being hopeful is trait I try to maintain. He knew that. I said go, but left him with a choice. I'd either let him stay and make him hurt in my own home instead of outside of it, or take it easy and sleep it off. I did both in doses as the night went. Of course, he stayed and was gone in the morning. And this was just the start.