This word is just as confusing as the meaning it self, scratch that. . . This word is just as confusing as my past interpretation of love.
I have recently found out some things about my past relationship I did not want to know. Things I have had to come to reality and conclusions with. If I let the battle of heart and mind taint my blood anymore it would surely cause septic shock leading to the demise of my heart. I felt something today, something I never felt from this person I once called ‘the love of my life’.
A stranger has stumbled into my life and has shown me more sincerity than that of which was expressed by you. Someone I barely know, someone who knows my full name, and where I work. That is all this person knows about me.
Today she gently rested her hand on my face just looking into my eyes. her deep blue eyes had been filled with peace. The feeling and trembling fear that was brought to me was something I can not explain. It was a feeling that my mind had fabricated but never felt. Not even in the slightest of ways in my toxic relationship. It was not a feeling of fear as we know it, if anything all fear was gone. It was as if the gentle hand with purple nail polish was delivering a gift of compassion into my life. Compassion of which I have never felt or experienced.
I am not ready for a relationship for I am still terrified of people wanting to get close, but this small meaningless touch on her end was perfect.
All I know about this girl is her full name, where she works, and the sincerity in her heart with a small touch.
The life in my chest, has been crushed by several well placed words.
I will survive, but this moment and the following days I will feel lifeless.
“That was her.
Pure, lucid, evil.
I’d sleep all right with that on top of me.”
Fascination that had found me dumbfounded. To be pure is to be blemish free, to be lucid is to be known, to be evil you must lack the other two qualities.
I was once told, “I’ll protect you.” I remember being told this by a 110lb girl that stood before me holding my hand. I laughed slightly because I am a 250lb man that has always been the protector. But then quickly I gained composer over my laughing, because this was something no one had ever told me, not even my father. Sure he demonstrated it but never said it.
These powerful words rolled off my lovers lips. Never had I ever seen someone stand up for me like her. She had a way with words that demanded respect in the most polite way, but also cut with fiery to any ropes of affliction attached to me. She would strike my foes down with several well placed words. No one had been that person to protect me. That was an action of love.
“I will always care for you.” Never utter those words again, because the way you talk to me does not resemble ‘care’ it doesn’t even resemble a friend. You treat me as I am your foe now. I do not udenserstand why, I never cheated, never left you, never abused you, never let you down, never let your tears fall, never let you take on troubles alone. I rescued you. . . so you had once said.
But now you speak to me as if I owe you something.
Just remember I said I’d always be here for you together or not and that is something I ment. You’re the one that is not.
I am obsessed with bridges. They are so beautiful and are placed in the most desolate areas. On my Instagram I once posted a picture of a bridge captioned “Bridges are what connects man’s creation to God wonder” maybe I enjoy bridges because I know it means moving on and exploring.
Last night I tossed and turned all night. My voice is gone, my throat feels tight from this sickness that rules my body. I was coughing so much I actually lost my breath and could not breath. This happened several times. I lost all energy to move because I knew oxygen was not entering my lungs. As I laid on the floor trying to gain a breath this thought came into my head. I am in this house alone, no one is around. No one stops by to check on me, my parents text me occasionally from states away. But if I die from not being able to get oxygen in my lungs who will know. This sounds dramatic but I assure you it is true.
As the sun rose this morning, my heart grew with courage! I was able to pack your belongings into several boxes load them into my car and drop them off at your moms. As I was driving a flood of memories evicted every thought in my head on how nervous I was to do this.
I remember moving from California to Idaho, chasing you. It was a wonderful chase. The year prior to the move we flew to each other well over a dozen times each. I remember laying in tall grass next to a lake in California looking at the clouds. I remember working on skid row doing some homeless ministry, and this one day you decided to come with me in the pouring rain. Your name is Rain. I remember sitting on a bus coming back from Santa Monica going to the heart of LA Where we shared our first kiss. I remember being the cute couple in the airport as we flew to Canada. Being the sad couple in the airport knowing I wouldn’t see you for 28 days. I remember trying to drive from your mom’s to your dad’s and getting so hopelessly lost on the streets of Idaho. I looked over at you, and you were laughing because you had never seen me lost. I remember our first small apartment.
Building a entertainment center out of pallets in our small 600 sqft home. Me you and our two dogs.
I remember our journeys and travels. Getting lost in a corn mazes. Going to different coffee shops every weekend. Playing tourist in towns we knew, and getting lost in cities we didn’t.
Why am I remembering all of this right now. I am not hurting I am not sad. Instead I have the biggest cheesiest smile on my face driving to drop your stuff off. Because these memories are real… They will always last even though your face and voice may fade.
I know I’ll never hold you or see you again. I’ll never be able to spill my heart, or provide for you again. The last memory I have of you is kissing you goodbye before I left for work. You were all snuggled up in our bed. As my lips left your cheek you smiled and continued to sleep. At that moment I knew you were at peace. I had no idea this would be the last time I saw you. If I did I would have stayed home from work.
I have dropped off remnants of your life at your moms. It was so heartbreaking. But I know I’ll be okay. I do not hate you! I hate that I have to do this. But I can’t hang on when I know he hangs on to you at night. I can’t continue to pay your bills as I feel I am paying for your lifestyle with him. I am not doing this because I hate you. I am doing this because my heart is holding on by a thread. The thread it is hanging on by is the same thread that will be used to suture my mauled heart, if it breaks I may never be the same. So please understand why I am doing this, please don’t hate me for feeling imprisoned in our home. I have taken your responsibilities and pain so that you may be free.
*All images are my own*
The way your lips fall shut against your white teeth, speak louder than your words. Watching your eyes sink down into despair, I see something I haven’t seen before. I can see behind your walls. It’s as if I am a little kid peering over the neighbors fence. As I stand on top of sketchy structure built with the toys I could find in my yard.
I know that I can only make this climb once and as I make it I understand that everything below me will collapse. But to me it will be worth it, worth it in this past moment. But that is the past moment. What about this present moment? As I look back I wonder why I risked it all for such a small glimpse. If I am to build a structure again I’d build it tall enough to pull my self over the wall and into your life. For once I break those walls, I should never cause them to be rebuilt. But that’s exactly it. I though I was peering over the fence, when in reality I was looking through the cracks of life. As you continued to reinforce your thoughts. You never seemed to trust me enough to let me in. I erased every woman from my life and never talked to any woman but you. Because I wanted to show you I was trustworthy.
I never gave you a reason to not trust me. I took really good care of you, never hurt you, never abused you, never left you, always comforted and provided everything you could ever want. You never gave me a reason why you left. Maybe me doing everything you asked was getting old. Or was it maybe because the amount of love that I showed you scared you. And you knew you could not repay it (even though you never needed to)? Or because you allowed someone behind your wall as I was doing everything to get through to you. Someone you liked before me… Which now leads to the question; why did you settle with me for two years? Everything was better than ever till you reappeared in his life.
Getting over you. . .
I sit amongst some of the strongest people in gorgeous sceneries. Realizations strike my mind out of no where. Tears form in my eyes but never fall down my cheek. Instead they sit on the cusp of my eye lid. As I shut my eyes, my eyelashes absorb what cannot come out, blurring my vision from what I need to see. Yet the tears never fall. . .
Why am I crying? I am not physically hurting, I am not thinking of you. But then again my mind tends to think of you when I deny the thought of wanting to think about you. My subconscious controls my thoughts, body, and heart. Just as when you’re mad and driving home from work. You are so use to the route from work to home, that your mind is thinking about your anger and frustration. But your body is driving you home. Once home you realize that you never remember anything about the drive.
But I am not crying because of you… Kind of…
I am crying because you took barbwire and wrapped my heart so tightly
that it constricted who I was, who I am, and who I was becoming. You tried killing the good qualities I had, that you didn’t like. For example my heart for family and people. You never admired it, but you knew it took precedence over you at times. I aloud you to wrap that barbwire so tightly around my heart that now it hurts to breath or become passionate about something. Because my heart cannot pump an adequate amount of blood to my extremities to perform the heartfelt qualities I fell in love with years ago.
These tears are not from pain, anger, or thoughts, they are tears of relief. Because slowly that barbed wire is falling off and my heart is becoming stronger. Never have I had tears like this. All I know is I am healing now.
please excuse any spelling errors it is late and I typed this on my phone.
The absence of existence is not death… It’s just nothing. The definition of nothing is “having no prospect of progress; of no value.”
Being sorry is a word that is meaningless. It’s a conglomerate of letters that make a word we use flippantly. Yeah ill be honest I use it more than I should. But my definition of sorry is this.. Sorry is a meaningless word that has no value (nothing) till equal and relevant action is bestowed upon it to notice a change needs to be made in order for ‘sorry’ to exist. In simplicity you are not sorry till you recognize the problem and proactively adjust your actions to make sorry a non existent phrase but a powerful action.
This is something I have learned and am still learning. In my past I was always truly sorry but had no clue how to fix sorry. So the word filled the void of where action should be found.
To flow on a similar tangent of anger, when family asks “how are you” you want to open up and spill your heart felt pains. After all they are family. But as you start you see the eyes roll, and attention snagged by the moving car cruising down the highway. After 15 words into your pain you stop, smile and say “sorry, it doesn’t matter, how are you?” That sorry is truly empty and will never be filled because it is truly meaningless. Never have I been able to express more than 15 words of pain from this breakup, before I lose the attention of my audience.
But yet here I stand in a gravel filled parking lot watching you encourage a friend as I sit here completely dead and callous to everything around me.
She has never spoken badly about me to anyone since she left. I was hurt and don’t mean to speak badly about her, because I still love her. I shoulder all the blame so she won’t feel worthless. I am willing to take the burns so she is happy. After all I am the man. I got kicked out of college when they were going to kick her out. Because I begged for them to let her stay. That was the start of our relationship, so it’s only right I continue this way. For I don’t want her to feel hurt as I hurt.
To answer the age-old question “whose fault was it?” it was no ones. She got bored and left. That’s no ones fault in particular. But being the man I bare the burden. For work became stressful and consumed my life for two months. I was exhausted, had no energy, no time, no money, lost my appetite for quiet a bit in this time. But always reassured her of my love, and was always there to comfort and support no matter what. Two years three months, it all ended. . . She is happy, that’s all I care for, even though another kisses her goodnight, she is happy….