Time Doesn't Always Heal Wounds

There's part of me that wonders if this part of me will ever heal.  I don't even know how to describe it...  In fact, here I sit, staring at the screen, wondering how.

It's that piece that empties quickly.  That piece that is terrified all the time.  It's the piece that remembers what alone is like.  Really alone I mean.  Not the sit in a quiet place and have a glass of wine and soak it up for a bit alone, but the late at night, aching alone.

Aching.  Insecure, deep fear, close to panic, ache...

It's the result of the sudden end of things.  When you didn't see it coming, but when it was over, it was tragic. It's forever changing... and I mean that it changes you - forever, not in constant turn over, but the eternal soul imprint kind of way.  It's the attempt to remain.  The trying to mend the hole that keeps fraying and tearing like an over stretched sweater, and you keep pulling it closer and tighter, only to let more holes in.

Gah... rambling.  Alone.

I've done my share of leaving.  Part of me says maybe the open wound is my karmatic retribution for it.  The reasonable part of me, the faith filled part of me doesn't believe in karmatic hurt - only learning, and in the learning, healing.  And in the healing, cultivating gratitude.

And so here we are... seeking gratitude, fighting the ache, the fear, and the alone - without valid reason.

As I said, I wonder, often, if the fear ever heals.  Does anyone get this...at all?

Rambling with gratitude...