MVP: Who's #1?

Current Status: far too contemplative for my own good

I’m sitting here in the car on my way back to Florida. My dad has rigged his PDA to allow wireless internet in the car – a pretty cool feat, to say the least. Nevertheless, my mind is far from the ‘net or the beauty of the mountains we are leaving behind.

Instead, my mind is on other things left…other things lost…

I visited his MySpace page the other day. I couldn’t help it. Some masochistic part of me was curious. As expected, all the standard post-break up changes had been made. “Single” now resided where “engaged” used to be. A friend’s face now rested in the #1 person spot – the place where my countenance used to reside.

Just like that, I had been completely erased out of his life (and vice versa). Any evidence of our relationship only existing in one place: our memories. No shared tags, no more “I love you’s” posted on walls…just like that, it was as if we had never even met in the first place.

Good God, break-up’s suck.

Even though I’m the one who initiated it, even though I know it needed to happen, it still hurts. Worse than I ever imagined. And not in the “I got a limb chopped off” kind of way: more like the “my limb is gone; the wounds are scabbing over. But I still feel this dull, throbbing, ache that won’t go away” kind of way.

What really got me was that #1 slot. Countless times, I had looked on that slot with pride and thought “I’m somebody’s number one. I’m somebody’s everything.” As silly and insignificant as a picture on a website may be, it meant something to me. Being that significant to someone was a unique feeling for me, one I’ve always craved. The one thing I’ve always wanted is to be important to someone, to matter, to mean something.

Now, as I stare bleakly at my computer screen, the pessimist in me can’t help but think “Who do you matter to now? You’re not someone’s number one; you’re not an “everything” anymore. You’re not even a “something.” You’re not even there.”

And the sad part is: it’s true. I’m no one’s “number one” anymore. And there’s no changing that. I might be a two, a three or four, but that #1 slot is decidedly gone; there’s no getting it back.

I’m trying to console myself with the knowledge that there is a God who loves me, who believes in me, and would have died on a cross to ransom me even if I was “the only one.”

Such consolations though, seem empty and small without a pair of loving arms to go with them. I guess that's what faith is for.

So for now, I’ll mourn. It is a loss…the death of a dream. I guess this phase in my life is the funeral. I’m just waiting for the pain to dull…to get buried deep enough in the ground for the healing to begin…