I could say I don't deal well with transitions, but I might actually mean I am terrible at letting go.
Letting go of my idea of achieving something remarkable, of a future and a hope, of being virtuous, of gaining and giving companionship.
It's like I just got into the pace of things, created a way to be satisfied.
But I am like a fletching of a fleeting arrow to the onlooking world. I only go where it is comfortable, you might say. That's not true to the slightest. I make a home where it makes no earthly sense.
It's in this myriad of "disappointing" decisions that I feel the most loved, and able to love. It's a personal priority...
Moving on is not seeking commiseration, or I am just a glitch caught in gridlock of our otherwise flawless collective destiny.