I’ve been limping over the luthier the past few days, and longing for Sperlonga.
The truth is, the love of my life and I didn’t fall out – life simply occurred. International issues with family do nothing for new found feelings. And so it ended, abruptly and instantly.
My three-week house guest who arrived essentially the day this all went down has watched me basically die over the past month. I realize everyone has their own “the most miserable heartbreak” story. And not to be bias, but I feel like Poets take it to the next level.
Needless to say, I’m crying right now. However, I accept all of this as what gets me to what’s next.
I’ve decided that Sperlonga is next, kids.
I fell in love with Sperlonga (along with the rest of Italia) immediately. Sperlonga is where I want to finish one of my books… Somewhere overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea.
The luthier stole my heart. But the two of us had plans, and I don’t understand why I should fuck up my plans because my heart got its ass kicked, one more time.
Therefore: FollowMeToSperlonga. Let’s. I’m not sure exactly how I’ll swing it, yet. It’s kind of like the day I started this page, only I’m totally not quitting my day job. I dig my day job. And I’m not married to an Australian and living in Queensland – that part is different too.
I’m glad I’ve at least figured out what to put my energy toward next. Once I get finished with all of this crying. I reckon out of all the break-ups I’ve endured, including my marriage – this one certainly deserves an honorable mention. Cheers, mate.
I predict at least three books about it. That one hurt.