It's not you, it's me. See, I'm changing into another species.

I'm not exactly sure what's happening to me this month except that I seem to need great swaths of space around me. I thought it would be healing to try dating but in reality, it was wearying. Still, I think I needed to exhaust myself in order to emerge from some kind of inner swamp.

me, aka: swamp thing

I'm not really sure where to go from here, but that's okay, I don't need to know anymore. I don't really know what the face of healing looks like but I suspect this may be it.

The most painful thing about this process is that I seem to be hurting others by withdrawing. It's unintentional, but I'm doing a lot of "it's not you, it's me," explaining these days.

Did you ever see the Star Trek episode where the hot doctor lady falls in love? The end is steeped in heartbreak.

"It's not you, it's me," her lover says, his voice cracking with emotion. "See... I'm changing into another species...."

I dropped to the floor and howled right then. I still fall over laughing just thinking about it. Best line ever! I mean, if you didn't want to see me anymore, just tell me! You don't have to go changing your species and all.

But seriously, maybe this IS what's happening.

I know what it's like to be on the other end, thinking, "If I were more ____ [insert adjective], then it'd work!" but my frailties are not a barometer of external worthiness. If I could will the heart around, life would be so much easier. But alas, it is far simpler to mutate into another being.