Lost Rings

I lost something very special to me. A possession I cherished above all other things that I owned. A possession I grew very attached to, to the point where I couldn’t imagine my days without it.

Today, I lost it.

Simple forgetfulness in the ladies room stall caused me to go about the systematic process of washing my hands without even glancing up, or around what may be next to me.

And it wasn’t until I walked out, twiddled my thumbs, walked down the hill ever so slowly, cautiously and aware of everything but my empty fingers. It wasn’t until I spent 5 minutes trying to call an Uber, giving up and hopping in a 15 minute cab ride back home, getting out of the cab and in front of my apartment, that I realized, as I was closing the zipper of my wallet and placing it back into my purse, that they were gone.

What hurt the most wasn’t the fact that they were my beloved possessions, going strong for nearly two years with me; or that they embodied the enigma at their center of existence that mirrored my personality; or even that they had travelled miles upon miles with me, being my constant reminder of self, independency and individuality. But, that they were gone because a boy had preoccupied my mind.

In that moment, I realized I had given up on me along with the care of those rings. I gave up on my self-worth because I let someone else roam my mind and distract me from myself and my reality. I allowed someone to run a race course through my thoughts and envisioned myself detached from what was real and what was important, to me.

I realized, as I firmly gripped my empty hands and felt that cold and lonely touch on my fingers that I had been focusing intently on someone who hadn’t even bothered to give me the time of day.

I was preoccupied because I was waiting. For what? For him. To him. With him. All of that which had centered him in my universe when in reality, he wasn’t much more deserving of a mere distant glimmer within the multitude of galaxies that circled me.

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