My creativity has been pretty high lately. I have just been getting what to say to make myself feel better, to find the next piece of the puzzle to solve, to help myself move on. I understand a bit more now, how tragedy encourages creative and original thought. After hurting for a while, you're always searching for a new way to express it, to try and let it go so that you can be free of it. Not sure it works that way, but it's worth a shot from time to time.

I realized that it's about death. Death in life, and death in relationships... We all want to know that our existence, and our impact on someone else's life, that it was meaningful to them. That we gave them things in this universe, tools to help them overcome the difficulty of life, that no one else in all of history and eternity could have done. That we are special. What we actually look for, in our incessant worrying about where our exes are, and what they are doing, and who they are with, is affirmation that we somehow made them better. That our presence was worthwhile.

And honestly, I'm not sure if Ian would say that about our relationship. Certainly not our getting-back-together-relationship. I am not sure I meaningfully changed him. And that is me projecting, yes, and trying to make sense of all of the emotions and thoughts he has taken from me in the past few days. It never bothered me before when I didn't know where he was at all times, so why would it now? It would now because I want to know that, even if he is the same person he was two years ago before we met, he at least is thinking about me from time to time. That I enhanced his life enough to look back fondly upon.

And I can't know that. And it wouldn't help to know that. And I'm not even sure it helps to look too deeply at the dramatic impact I instinctively know he had on my own life. I am always saying I am afraid of change, but I love to embrace the concept that I have changed. And I like to think that I have. Ian meant something to me, and I cared for him, and that is something to look back fondly upon when the pain isn't so raw. But right now it is.

So again, I close by reminding myself that this chapter is over. This part of my life, and those people in it, are going to be relegated to the sphere of my more-past-like concept. My best friends, my roommates, my memories, and, yes, Ian. And it will all be for the best, and it really is okay.

In other news, who uses Linux at my school and hit my page up? This is mostly a rhetorical question, as I don't know ANYONE who uses Linux, and the one person who I know has this address certainly doesn't.