2015 is a New Year

I ended 2009 kissing someone who was not mine, while the one who technically was worried about me kissing someone entirely different. It was over.

I was pregnant at the end of 2010, with twins, but I didn’t know it. I was also at the beginning of something new. At midnight we toasted with champagne and someone spilled, he spent the next few minutes on his knees cleaning instead of kissing me. I wish I knew then what I know now.

I don’t remember the end of 2011. I know where we were, probably, but I was miserable and he was miserable and the misery would end us six days later… but not permanently, unfortunately.

I ended things with him on the last day of 2012, then pushed pause on the breakup to go to a party. I was broken. I stepped on a scale and was pushing 300lbs. I left him, and Texas, six weeks later.

I moved to Portland and went to a party to end my drift of 2013. I started 2014 happy and over, dressed as a cat, complete with drunk pictures and slightly inappropriate texts to a much younger man who was completely off limits.

2015 began with a whisper and a kiss, just that younger man and me in a hotel room. New Years on two other coasts lead me to this room on the east coast and the sailor I am sharing it with. It may not work out, but this is right where I want to be.

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