I can still hear her name floating from your lips- the lips that used to kiss mine. I can feel that same violent surging in the pit of my stomach. I feel ill at every thought of you kissing her, holding her, wanting her. The way you used to want me. And, I can’t fault you. I can’t be mad at you for moving on. But, I swear all I want to do is scream and plead with you- beg you to choose me. Want me. Be with me. Crawling. Kneeling. Praying. Come back. Please, please, please, p..l..e..a..s..e.. just come back. It’s weak. It’s pitiful. It’s pathetic. And, I have to stop my heart from doing it every day.
I know the logistics of it all: distance, timing, life paths, wah-wah-wah. But, it’s as if there’s this whole ocean that exists between the rational thoughts of my brain and the irrational feelings of my heart. One wants to remember, while the other begs to forget. One wants to return your request for friendship, while the other cautions to cut ties and heal. One wants to push away the world, while the other says to be wary of pushing away those who care- they just might push back. But, as usual- the former wins.
I remember everything, often. How you brushed the hair out of my eyes, leaned in close; kissing me for the first time. Riding shotgun while you begged me to rub your back, turning to kiss me when I least suspected it. Splashing in the ocean and watching the storm roll in, not caring if it rained. Waiting for the night to come. And those moments. Sometimes, not being able to wait. Just being perfectly content to lie in your arms and…be. Our many conversations about everything and nothing, your voice so close in my ear, but physically so far away. I remember it all. And it hurts like no pain I’ve ever felt. Everything seems to hold this memory of you, and it’s a constant battle not to give in and tuck the world away. Just fold it up and press it between the pages of a random book. Someone else will stumble upon it there- let them worry about it for a little while.
Meanwhile, I just want to stop hurting. I just want these shards removed from me. Then, I’ll deal with the wounds. I want to sleep through the night without waking to the thought of your name and a flood of memories. I want to get up in the morning and not struggle to breathe in and out. I want to get through a day without thinking that if I was just a little better, just a little prettier, perhaps a little smarter, or a little more appealing; maybe then I would still have you. Maybe, then I would be worth fighting for. Those words, when reiterated for you, made you ill.
Stop it. Stop saying that. It’s just not true. I never said that.
You told me more than once.
Sometimes, there are circumstances that are beyond our control.
Circumstances.
I hear the words, yet I find it difficult, so difficult, to believe them. Still, what choice do I have, really?
So, I go to bed and try to sleep. I wake up and try to smile. I live and try to dream. I wear masks to fool even those who know me best. Sometimes, I manage to fool myself. I know one day I will be okay. I will be happy again. But, for now- I have to get through.
No one ever prepares you for heartache. Not the true kind. The kind that grips you at your core and leaves you stumbling around in a world of “If only…”, “What If?”, and “I wish…”. I guess no one really can. I guess it’s one of those things you have to find out on your own.
