Not realizing the memories I have could be skewed until they’re pointed out to me.
That first kiss, your soft touch. I didn’t say no but I didn’t say yes either. The blurred lines between what’s right and wrong, I’ve never been good at distinguishing the two.
In my memory it was a moment of closeness and love, we were one and I wanted it, I told myself, that’s what I wanted. My first kiss and first everything all at once, magical.
Reliving it in a therapists office, things look a little different. I was scared. I was scared when your hands started moving from writing love letters on my hips to circling lower, higher.My hands pathetically pulling at yours when they got a little too close to where they shouldn’t be. The darkness. The selfishness. It wasn’t for me. It wasn’t for us.
But I didn’t say no, did I? I didn’t say yes, but this one is on me because I never said the word “no.” I don’t think I wanted to, but I didn’t know anything about the ways men can use you and hurt you, the way they could love you and cherish you.
It shaped me in ways I wasn’t aware of. Basing my value on my body alone. That’s all I am, after all. A body to be used.
The cycle continues, because of you.
I think I’ve mastered the art of missing you, somewhere in between
the 3am reruns of what I like to think we we were and
the countless mornings and afternoons recalling every line on your face,
the way your lips felt against mine that very first time,
the way your arms felt wrapped around me,
the way your eyes lit up when you smiled at me,
the way your hand felt against mine in your car as we drove to unknown destinations.
I like to think I know how to miss you right, but
it still shatters me to think of you, still hurts when I see her with you,
you look happier and in the times when I’m missing you, I find myself wondering why it couldn’t be me.
It’s not me you’re saying I love you to, it’s not me you’re falling asleep next to, waking up next to, living next to.
It’s not me you’re loving and I can’t help but wonder why I couldn’t be enough.
I don’t think I’m good at missing you at all.
There are things I no longer wish to understand. They break me, they taunt me and hold me tight in their grasp, no, you cannot forget.
I no longer wish to understand the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the sound of his laugh and the soft nudge he gave me when I said something silly. How easy it is to fall in love in a moment, one short, tiny moment in time.
I no longer wish to understand how easily my heart can be torn, shattered. It’s in pieces and no matter how hard anyone tries, they can’t be put back together. There will always be a large piece missing, the part of my heart he stole.
I no longer wish to understand that no, you can’t get over a love lost. They’ll always be somewhere inside, a voice whispering to you at a random moment in time, a fluttering in your heart when you see something that reminds you of him.
I no longer wish to feel the nostalgia, the pain, the missing you. I would say I wish I never met you at all, but even for a moment in time, you were half of my soul.
I no longer want to long for you, but mine for you is a love I cannot escape.
Would I relive you if I could?
Probably not. I don’t know if I could live through the pain you put me through, the hidden things you brought to light I wish I’d never seen.
I thought you’d fix me. You were my time. I was met with a chuckle, not yet my dear, not yet.
I was met with heartache beyond what I had ever experienced before. I was met with depression and anxiety at a new level, with fibromyalgia and BPD, with deceitful men promising me the world and taking everything I had, with a traumatic car crash that still wakes me up at night, I can’t drive those roads without reliving that moment.
I met my new friend Sorrow. They’re always with me and I can’t tell if I want them to leave or stay. I found my new favorite place on the edge, barely standing straight, the pull is so strong.
I met a new me in my reflection. She looks a lot like her, I pretend it’s okay. But it’s not. It’s not.
I met a new me inside my head, she doesn’t like to agree with me much. I can’t really control her and sometimes she likes to take over. I wish I could be rid of her.
But maybe I’d just be left empty.
I don’t know what the next year holds for me but dear God, please let it bring a new hope and healing to me, don’t let the me inside destroy me more than she already has.
i’m not sure what i had been expecting, you’ve moved on and
i was always still here waiting,
wanting. what had i expected when i told you
you’re bad for me, you’re killing me and
you’re happy. with her.
what had i expected, months and months of loving, of caring for
someone who doesn’t even give me a thought for a second of their day.
someone i spent countless nights aching for, my heart
caving in on itself, my body curling into itself to ease just some of the pain,
the pain of knowing i was just your in-between girl, knowing
she was waiting there for you, you were waiting for her to
come back to you.
should i have expected anything more than that cold, careless
“you do you, take care”?
Ever since you gave back the part of my heart that was yours, I’ve kept it locked in a box in the back of my closet,
I can still hear it beating, pulsing sometimes when it’s really quiet, when the darkness fills every corner of my being and sometimes
when I’m brave enough I’ll take it out, dust it off and feel it in my hands, still
beating for you. Still hurting, heart-wrenching pain fills me from head to toe, but I’m
still breathing for you. The pain is overwhelming but I can still feel the sunshine, the spring you put inside my heart, the forget-me-nots you gave me blooming, warming me.
I wish I could get rid of them, but I’ll always keep these feelings for you locked up tight in that box, only taking them out, only feeling
when I’m missing you.
The day I lost you, I lost the diamond from my grandma’s ring, the center a black hole now, empty and broken, something will always be missing now,
I don’t know if I can replace you. I know I can’t, no one else lights up my entire being like you do, no one else can make me feel when I’m empty, I am nothing
without you. I’m terrified, petrified, I can’t even move to reach out to you, can’t speak loud enough to tell you I need you. You’re happy, but
I’m broken. Even if I couldn’t have you the way I wanted to, at least I had a part of you.
But that little diamond is gone now, too.
Is it possible to stop loving someone? Or am I always going to be missing the part of my heart that you took?
I’ve seen the seasons change many times but I’m stuck in this perpetual winter, always cold, always longing for the warmth you once gave me. I’ve been tired and empty since you left me here,
not even moonlight can light up this darkness, the icy snow reflecting the nothingness you’ve left inside me.
They can try to pull me out of here, they can try to show me the spring that sits on the horizon but I fear I might squeeze my eyes shut, closed off to the hope that could bloom inside my heart.
She was 21 when she learned for the first time that the princess doesn’t always end up with her prince.
When he came into her life, he set her soul on fire. He held the missing part of her she had been searching for all her life. His smile and his touch, even for just a short while, said more than the dozens of people who came and went, his sigh saying more I love you’s than she could have ever dreamed of hearing.
So when he left, she always assumed he would come back. They’d end up together eventually. He was her soulmate. Right?
Then, she came along. His new love was the opposite of her. She was lively and bright, her eyes weren’t deep with darkness and the insecurities she tried to hide. She was exactly what he needed.
His heart found a new home in someone she knew she could never dream of winning against in the fight for his heart. He was completely himself with that girl, seeing sides of him she never knew existed.
So when they fell apart, it came as no surprise. His promises that he would always be there for her, she started to let them go, her knuckles still white from holding on so tight.
She was 22 when she learned that maybe we don’t have just one soulmate. That maybe she had to let go of that part of her that he kept, so he could be happy. Maybe her soul would be cold, but if his could be on fire, she might keep herself warm knowing she didn’t steal him from the girl his soul had always loved.