Twenty-Four

The Maggie Nelson worship continues.

Simply put, in the meantime, I had become a brokenheart. As winter moved into spring, then into summer, I found myself losing the man I loved. I was falling, or had fallen, out of a story, the story of a love I wanted very much. Too much, probably. And the pain of the loss had deranged me.

Falling out of a story hurts. But it’s nothing compared to the loss of an actual person, the loss of all the bright details that make up that person. All the flashing, radiant fragments that constitute an affair, or a love. If there has been a betrayal, you may find yourself holding each of these fragments up to a new light and rotating them there, watching each one grow an unwanted shadow. I found myself there.

Maggie Nelson, The Red Parts. Autobiography of a Trial. p. 82

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