• They Say…

    by  • February 22, 2012 • Letting Go • 1 Comment

    They say that when you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes, so you better make it worth watching. I don’t know if this is true, or just one of those things that they say.

    They say that everything will be ohkay in the end, and that if it isn’t ohkay then it isn’t the end. I don’t know if this is true, or just one of those things that they say.

    They say that true love always wins the day, that things have a way of working themselves out. I don’t know if this is true, or just one of those things that they say.

    They say that it is better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all. This one… this one I know is true.

    “It is better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all.”

    Two years… you’ve had my heart for just two short years, and in those years… you’ve changed me. I am better for your love, stronger. I am more me now than I ever was without you. I’ve grown, I’m less afraid of the unknown, I learned to trust myself.
    I wouldn’t trade those two years for anything in the entire world, I treasure every moment of my time with you… even when those moments were spent fighting. I’d rather fight with you, than be happy with anyone else. Yeah… that is another one of those ‘they say’ things. ‘They’ certainly seem to have a lot to say.

    I never knew I could love someone this much. I was so sure that love was an emotion I just couldn’t do, but… you were right, I could fall in love with you, just like you said. (I guess this is where I admit that, yes, you were right, for once. Just don’t let it go to your head.)

    It wasn’t that hard to fall for you. Easy, actually, is what it was. Extremely easy. You just had to smile at me, you just had to be… yourself, and I was down for the count. Though I didn’t admit it for a very long time. I had thought I was too late. You had her… and I didn’t want to say anything. I didn’t even mean to say it. And you just told me that you knew. That you felt the same way. That you’d always felt that way.

    Things seemed so perfect. So right.
    I wanted it all, everything we talked about; the life with you, the house with a fireplace in the living room to curl up in front of on long winter nights, the crazy hectic family holidays, the falling asleep next to you and waking up the same way every day for the rest of my life. The family… maybe a little girl with my eyes and curls, and your dark hair and wicked grin, or a little boy with my talent for getting into trouble and your wonderful, kind heart. Getting up in the middle of the night when they cried, watching kids shows/movies on repeat, until we knew every single line by heart, tucking them in together at night with kisses and a story. I wanted the inevitable Thanksgiving dinner from hell, with your parents coming and the turkey burnt, or not completely cooked, the fumbling through trying to get it right… together. Together. I didn’t care where we lived, or what life would throw at us… just as long as we were together.

    They say that there isn’t anything in this world that comes close to the feeling of loving another person with everything you have. They are right. There is no feeling so wonderful, no feeling quite as scary, as letting someone completely occupy every single space, every nook and cranny, in your heart.

    I guess that is what happened… you got scared. You didn’t let your heart win out. You chose to play it safe.

    You told me that you love me, that you will never stop loving me.
    You told me that no matter how many relationships you have, you will always feel like something is missing. When I asked you what that something was, you just said, “You… you are that something that would be missing.”
    You told me that you wished you could let your heart win this one. That it is hurting you as much as it is hurting me.

    As you told me this… I watched all those dreams, everything that seemed possible, everything that I had ever wanted, fade and shatter.
    As you told me this… my heart stopped beating and I don’t think it has started again. Not yet. It hurts to much to fall back into its normal beat.

    I love you almost to distraction, and when I think about never being in your arms, never burying my head against your shoulder, never holding your hand and watching the sunset together… my throat closes up and I can’t breathe for the sadness is so heavy, I almost cannot hold myself upright. It is a despair that runs so deep, I think it is now a part of me, forever. At least, that is what it feels like right now. It is so real, so sharp, it is burning in my chest. I swear, my entire heart must have been consumed by it already.

    I told you that we will always be best friends. I told you that I will wish, on every 11:11, shooting star, or rainbow, that you will be happy, and find peace in your life. I promised. And I intend to keep that promise. Because I love you enough to let you go.
    I love you enough to let you walk away with my entire heart.
    I love you enough to wish you well, to support you no matter what comes.
    I love you enough to try and be happy for you.
    I love you enough to put my game face on, get up out of bed, and pretend everything is alright.
    I love you enough to give you at least that much peace of mind.
    I love you enough to do this.
    I love you.

    They say if you love someone… let them go. If they stay away… they were never your’s to begin with. If they come back.. they are your’s to keep. I don’t know if this is true, or just one of those things that they say.

    They say that love never fails, that it always finds a way. I don’t know if this is true, or just one of those things that they say.

    They say that it is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all. This one I know is true.

    Related Post

    One Response to They Say…

    1. The Led Zeppelin Fanatic
      February 22, 2012 at 4:59 pm

      Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Thank you for writing this, for giving me hope. Best of luck to you



    Leave a Reply