Lately, I have been ruminating on the phrase "distance makes the heart grow fonder". I call bullshit. In what universe is this even remotely true? In my personal experience, distance...real or imagined, physical or emotional, leads to nothing but disappointment when it comes to matters of the heart. B's death is a prime example of this. He is about as far away physically as one can be. Ashes in a box in the dirt. Emotionally, the distance is unfathomable. Do I really deign to believe that his spirit is somewhere out there growing fonder of me the longer it isn't with me? I know my heart sure as hell isn't growing fonder.
Sad? Yes.
Bitter? A bit.
Broken? Absolutely.
Irreparable? Jury's still out.
I see this distance affecting me in all sorts of different ways. I now put distance between myself and my friends. Myself and my family. Myself and new people that I meet. Myself and potential romantic interests. I distance myself because I don't think I can take any more hurt if I lose someone close. I distance myself because I can't bear rejection. I distance myself because of all of the what ifs. My walls are there for a reason, and it seems like as soon as someone starts to chip away at them just enough to let the light break through, they run away. I'm not sure if it is because there is no light shining from inside or if the monsters that are hidden behind the walls are so scary that even brave souls don't want to venture in, but for whatever reason I keep having to repair the holes. With each repair the walls get a little bigger and a little harder to smash. I'm afraid pretty soon the distance they create will be insurmountable.
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