Journal Entry 9.16.23

My lover returns to me. I am grateful, but the grief remains. There remains the possibility of rejection embedded in me; the gilding is off the lily. I hold within me the possibility of love and the possibility of being unlovable in equal measure. I sit with the discomfort as the weather passes over. There is no easy fairy tale story for me. Uncertainty is what I get to expect. I rest knowing I get no refuge. It will not be part of my story. Another thing I get to grieve.