Everything happens for a reason.
My brain knows that. It's my heart that sometimes doesn't want to listen.
The logical side of me understands the rush of meeting a new friend and connecting with them on a level you would never have believed possible until that person. But the far more vocal emotional side of me can't reconcile the heart ache that comes when that person is no longer part of your every day world.
In my novel Heartless, Jagger isn't the best judge of character - it's part of the reason she sucks at her job, at least in the beginning. I can relate - in the shady-character judgement category, I'm a definite #fail. But even after shedding those *toxins* I can't seem to fill the void they've left, despite some pretty amazing people in my life.
Truthfully, it isn't the bad eggs I miss the most - not when I'm being rational.
I recently reconnected with my high school best friend after more than a decade of stubborn non-communication. Our friendship ended over teenage drama, fairly typical, I suppose. We had some good times back then - we bonded over music, concerts, rockstar crushes. In some ways, it's what we still have in common today. Not enough of a thread to rekindle the intensity of our high school bond, but enough to put the past behind us and start over. A new friendship. Different, but no less important.
The reconnection has been fun - but it's also forced me to reminisce about other relationships that have slipped away over the years. Some, I can accept. Many of those friendships were formed in haste, or on unstable common ground, or perhaps, more likely, due to my personal poor judgement.
But some weren't. And those are the people that make me wish for a time machine, to go back and stop the proverbial last straw. Sometimes the ache for that "lost kinship" is so strong, I feel my heart crack. Cliche, I suppose.
And yet, as someone once said, nothing is random. Not even those losses.
My brain knows that. But please don't tell my heart. I just don't think it understands.
I miss you, D.
The Book In my Bag Today: Stolen, Kelley Armstrong