Friday, June 25, 2010

Tattooed Soul

When we started planning the original Love Bites party, I thought why just one night, why not a whole week of fabulousness. The Big Apple welcome wagon is in full swing. The first of many parties occurred tonight. Just because I can't make it to palm tree land doesn't mean I have to miss out on the fun. I've always loved parties; fabulous friends, open bar, gifts, yummy food and of course an excuse to play dress up. If I had known that the perks of hosting a get together included bottles of Veuve, J.Torres chocolates and sinfully delicious Crumbs cupcakes, I would have a party every night of the week. Oh and how could I forget the obscene bouquet of orchids and roses from Mc Dreamy. How fabulous.
It is in times of sorrow and humility that the band of brothers stands up and guards it's fallen soldiers. I am reminded of this on a daily basis now. As I no longer am a wounded victim, but a grief counselor to the newest casualty of love gone bad. The scars will never truly heal; they are a permanent reminder of the war battled in. The war of love is an endless fight. Many will try few will succeed. Physical scars will fade overtime, but the emotional bruises will forever be tattooed and branded on the soul.
I have learned so much about myself and about the strength of my band of brothers in recent months and weeks. I started my emotional journey nearly a year ago. Yet, when I look back it feels like many years have past.
I don't know the person I once was. She too is merely a figment of my imagination these days. Who I have evolved into is a strong warrior and this serendipitous new life am one I never dreamt about, yet it's as thou it was set in stone a long time ago.
Sometimes it is what is not said that says it all. Silence truly is golden. For once the words come out, questions will be asked and accusations will be made. In the battle of love, what are we fighting for and what are we defending?
It's a surreal thought being within reach and yet so far away. The future is fast approaching, yet the past is still holding a grudge.

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