May 2019
Most days I don’t think about you,
Some days I do. On those days I want to allow myself to feel everything for what we had, who we were, who I am now in comparison; I feel it all to compensate for the year where I didn’t feel a thing. All I knew was you. Not joy, not anger, motivation, fear. Only you. You were everything to me. I cower in regret.
I look back and compare what I have now to the laughter we shared. I used to cry. God, I’d lose it every night in my bed- the bed we shared for 365 straight days. I loved the you that I put on a pedestal. The you I met that first day at my workplace, the you that you wanted the world to see. The spontaneous, giving you. The romantic you. The intelligent, humble you. Charismatic, charming. Truthful. Lustful. Golden. These images play on a marquee and I weep because I know they are not realities.
I loved you with everything. I don’t know what you want the world to see now, but I hope with all of my heart you are happy. You never were when we were together and I always blamed myself. I could not save you. I tried until I ran out of life. You told me I was your burden to bear and I felt it in my chest, in my legs, in my gut, but not in my heart. I know that is not true. I know you have a martyr heart, I know I have a lot on my plate. You took willingly. Fed yourself from me every night. You preyed on my vices so that you might have reason to be tired. You were there for me. Through everything. I hated you for saying that. It hurt so bad, I spent three days in the same position unraveling on the floor the night you told me you wanted to help me more than you wanted to love me. I’ll never forgive you, I carry that guilt around unwillingly everywhere I go. It’s a piece of me, I cast out to feel relief and I feel nothing. In my year of fear and darkness, you convinced me I had you until the end of time- In goodness and light and in suffering. You lied. The minute you had to stop pretending to be in love with me you took that opportunity and ran and the words that followed dug me hollow. I can’t forgive you for that, it hurts so bad. Still, to this day I repress all emotion in hopes the next one won’t run away, won’t fall to their knees and look up and say “thank you for making me this way.” I don’t know where to go from here, but I want you to apologize for being there at all if it was never genuine.
Some days I do. On those days I want to allow myself to feel everything for what we had, who we were, who I am now in comparison; I feel it all to compensate for the year where I didn’t feel a thing. All I knew was you. Not joy, not anger, motivation, fear. Only you. You were everything to me. I cower in regret.
I look back and compare what I have now to the laughter we shared. I used to cry. God, I’d lose it every night in my bed- the bed we shared for 365 straight days. I loved the you that I put on a pedestal. The you I met that first day at my workplace, the you that you wanted the world to see. The spontaneous, giving you. The romantic you. The intelligent, humble you. Charismatic, charming. Truthful. Lustful. Golden. These images play on a marquee and I weep because I know they are not realities.
I loved you with everything. I don’t know what you want the world to see now, but I hope with all of my heart you are happy. You never were when we were together and I always blamed myself. I could not save you. I tried until I ran out of life. You told me I was your burden to bear and I felt it in my chest, in my legs, in my gut, but not in my heart. I know that is not true. I know you have a martyr heart, I know I have a lot on my plate. You took willingly. Fed yourself from me every night. You preyed on my vices so that you might have reason to be tired. You were there for me. Through everything. I hated you for saying that. It hurt so bad, I spent three days in the same position unraveling on the floor the night you told me you wanted to help me more than you wanted to love me. I’ll never forgive you, I carry that guilt around unwillingly everywhere I go. It’s a piece of me, I cast out to feel relief and I feel nothing. In my year of fear and darkness, you convinced me I had you until the end of time- In goodness and light and in suffering. You lied. The minute you had to stop pretending to be in love with me you took that opportunity and ran and the words that followed dug me hollow. I can’t forgive you for that, it hurts so bad. Still, to this day I repress all emotion in hopes the next one won’t run away, won’t fall to their knees and look up and say “thank you for making me this way.” I don’t know where to go from here, but I want you to apologize for being there at all if it was never genuine.
