I let you go, not because I wanted to, not because it was easy, but because it was the only way I could survive.
I shattered the illusion of happiness in that single message, and brought into sharp relief that which had been weighing heavy on my heart for the longest time.
I told myself I could live with it if everything stayed the same, but I knew in my heart I was lying to myself. I couldn’t do it. I knew only that my happiness would be temporary, until such time as I became overwhelmed with sadness again.
I let you go, not because I no longer love you, not because I have found someone else, but because it was the only way I could try to move forward.
I broke the foundation of this thing we have created together, and left us both to pick up the pieces and try to forge this new reality from the shards of the old one.
I have hated myself, and the decision I made, from the very second I made it. I wish things were different. I wish things were simple. I am sorry that I have hurt you, that I have ruined things so spectacularly. I have to live with it, and that is my punishment.
I let you go, and I wish, desperately, that I didn’t have to. But I know that the one thing I want more than anything, is the one thing I can never have.
I pass you, unexpectedly, and then I’m gone before you see me; lost in the throng of people milling about in this small, not so small space. I’ve not seen you in a long time, and the weight of reaction is heavy in my chest. I should be over this by now.
My heart drops to my stomach in that singular instant. If it made a sound, it would be the dull sound of a lead ball hitting a carpeted wooden floor. That’s what it feels like, and I know I’ll be replaying those few seconds in my head for days to come. I’m angry at myself for it.
The green of your dress, and the dark length of your hair sticks out vividly in my mind. You are like a beacon in my memory, shining more brightly than anything else of late. I hate that you still make me feel this way, I hate that you still make my heart skip a beat.
I wish you were nothing to me. I wish you were invisible, unknown. I don’t want you in my mind anymore, and I wish I’d never had cause to know you at all.
Words like shards of broken glass, slicing through soft flesh. My heart feels torn, a secret yearning never voiced aloud, spoken only in riddles and penned in hidden pages.
Too long, to long for a dream never realized. Will my life waste away before me, with my deepest desires yet unfulfilled? My time runs out slowly, each second drawing me closer to the inevitable conclusion. I know the truth of it, and yet still, a tiny part of me clings to the hope that perhaps I might be wrong.
A silent scream, laced with the echoes of agony. A broken mind, a broken heart, trapped within an ever decaying body. Wasting away into nothing, never knowing the sweetness, nor the fire. Passions are left to fade into nothing, and it all remains the same.
“One day,” she said, “someone is going to look at you, and see all the things they ever hoped for. You won’t have to spend another night with Loneliness for your only companion, or crying silently in the dark where no one can see. One day, someone is going to choose you, and they will keep on choosing you, every single day thereafter. One day, my sweet child, you are going to be happy. Do not give up hope, nor resign yourself to bitterness. And remember that you are worth so much more than you think.”
I never say what I want to say. The words get stuck in my throat, and what comes out is not what I’m screaming inside my head. My lips are painted with the ghosts of a thousand whispered confessions, murmured to the night and lost in the nothing. Bravery would unleash those secret things and leave my throat unobstructed, but I have always been scared. Words are both weapons, and chains, and I am trapped by things left unsaid. I am small, and I was never meant to be a hero.
I feel a lot of empty right now, kind of like a shell person. Not like, a crab or a lobster kind of shell. More like…a hollow husk of humanness.
Where did that girl go? The one that wasn’t so bitter and jaded? I’m sure she existed, once upon a time. I’ve lost her, though. And I think she’s so lost to me now, that there isn’t even a tiny hope of finding her. This is who I am now.
I hate what these years have made me. They have stolen so much. Left me with so little. And the worst part is, I’m not sure how to move forward. I’m a coward, see. And I am certain I will be stuck here until I die.