How can that one word start my heart and stop my breath? Will I ever see it again?
I want you to be reading this, but I know you’re probably not. I’m worried about you, but this letter isn’t about that. It’s about me. I can’t put you before me anymore. Most of the time I give the impression of being ok. Even happy once in a while. I’m not as broken as I thought I’d be. Hurt, yes. Angry, you bet. But mostly, S, I’m so, so, sad.
I spent 6 months asking you if you were sure about this. Six months, S. You assured me you wouldn’t run away again. But you did. How could you do that? You gave me your word. I was willing to give you everything. God help me, I still am. Just call me. Text, email, message, something! You know where I work, come and see me! I am asking you, straight out, to come back.
I struggle every minute of every day. The last few months I spent thinking to myself “Of course, he came back. Of course.” Now I’m torn between that certainty that you will and the equally flat certainty that you won’t. You pushed me out of your life, again, and I did nothing to cause this. I would have stood by you, and you just left. What else can I do?
I told you in September, “This isn’t me settling for anything. This is me choosing to be with you.” Do you remember me whispering that to you? Do you even remember that day? Because I can’t get it out of my mind. I see you clearly in my mind, I still feel your touch, your kiss, the sound of your voice, even the scent of your sweat on me. I cling to it like a lifeline. So this isn’t me begging, this is me asking. I still choose you.
What else can I say so you know that this is for you? That ride on your motorcycle was pure freedom for me. I wanted more. That day in September was pure love for me. I wanted more. For six months I was happy. I would have given you a lifetime.
I am here, but I am going to live my life. Come back, S, and live it with me.
Always, always, always…
Your broken goddess.