I am so mad at myself.
So, so, so so so, mad!
What can I possibly do to get you out of my head?! It has been 7.5 years, Brian.
I thought that asking you to tell me that you feel nothing for me, wished you had never met me, anything kind of close to ruthless, to get me…
Well not me, my head, my heart
To realize that you and I will NEVER be again.
And although, even through text, I could hear the exasperation in it, “It’s not that easy M…” you tried…and I had to prompt you, hours later, to do it, and it wasn’t even mean, Brian, it was still nice. You didn’t need to be nice, you still went against me, maybe in an act to still somehow make me suffer in always wanting you, in hopelessly loving you…
“Just try to forget about me. Move on with your life.”
Not because I don’t want that, because out of anything at all that I could want, I want to be with you the most.
As horrible as this is going to sound, and believe you me, even I, who is writing this, who knows damn well how wrong it is, is going to admit it anyway, because I am big enough to do so, because I am human and I know I am not the only one who feels this way at times in life, but I would even give up my daughter…
And to clarify, it is not because I do not love her, I love her as immensely as humanly possible, but on a different level, and you my dear, are on one that is completely selfish of me. It has nothing to do with her, or with the world, or with anything in particular, except that it would make me, and only me, happy.
Honestly, I am happy. But not whole and happy. Not content and happy. I will take this to the grave; maybe whisper it to my daughter while she sleeps after sobbing over a boy who broke her heart for the first time, that really I only settled in life because I never wanted to ruin her. That although I am super selfish in wanting you, always you, in comparing everything (without even realizing it until it’s been done) with you, the last thing I could even fathom doing is hurt her. I can’t be the one who out of all the people in the universe, her mother, ruin love for her.
I wont be that person.
Not even if it killed me.
Which slowly, it will
I’m young still, and she so small and innocent, that I clench my hands at the enormity in which I want to cover her in love, bathe her in it like sunlight, because I am so terrified that one day she will feel like I do, and I don’t want that, just about as much as I want you.
I never want her to wake up in the middle of the night and wonder what it was that she did to make her life become so unsettling. Why it is her, someone who treats animals like humans, sometimes better than humans, can’t even keep dry eyes at the thought of her father even having to consider living in a nursing home, knowing her mother is in such constant aching pain and she can’t do anything to even relieve some of it, is the person who has to endure the rest of her life with a heart like Swiss cheese. Why is she the one who has to cross paths by pure fate with a man, well boy at the time, who will forever be the ruler that no one will ever measure up too. That she pushes away because she, after so many burns from others feels as if this is too good to be true, that this is not real and is some trick, that it will be wrenched away from her without a warning, She leaves him before he can hurt her and leave her.
She was the most stupidest…
No, worse than stupid, something much, MUCH worse…
I am too angry to even bother to find a word, 16 year old I have EVER met.
And every morning I have to look right at her.
I wish I were blind about every other day; no use for mirrors or photo albums then.
Now she is a mother, and by some odd spontaneity decides that she is going to ask her long term boyfriend to marry her, because she loves him. She loves him so much. But not as much as you, Brian.
Never even close.
And now, just days before the wedding, after all the invitations sent and rsvp’s accounted for, after all the hassle over the food, and décor, after finding meaningful enough music, and symbolic readings, she suddenly realizes that this is now the second most utterly imbecilic act she will commit, and she has no one but herself to blame.
At least this time I realized it before it happened, but of course it’s a little to late to just say, “Hey, I don’t want to marry you. I can’t because you aren’t the missing pieces that make me whole, no matter how much I try to fit you into them.”
How cruel would that be of me?
It is not like he is a monster, or that he is not worthy of happiness. He is worthy of that,.
He wont get it from me, even though he is uncaring of that information, because he is a simple person. A black and white person. I am so many shades between. I am person who thinks of all the possibilities. He see’s an option, maybe three, but they are all sensible, all within his reach, and even if it were not, well by god he makes it happen. He is a good father, a good friend. A good lover. But he is not you, Brian.
You made me feel like if I extended my arms just enough, I could hold all those stars we watched at night. You made me explode around myself from the tiniest things. I never knew when someone loved me before they told me, but with you, I could feel it in the way you wanted to tell me, before you ever uttered a word. I felt the way someone does when they abandon themselves to the rolled down window of their car, slightly hanging their head out to feel the breeze in a stronger sense. I felt that in one way or another, even if it took my whole life, I could see the entire world with you. Colors were so unbelievably vivid, music was like the blood in my body, breathing came second to kissing you.
If I could close my eyes and wake up at 16 and know what I do now, I would not feel like I did then. I would know that I deserved that kind of love, that kind of happiness. I didn’t then because it was always ripped away from me, it was always a tease, a painful one. I figured if it never continued, it was not meant to be for me, that I wasn’t meant for that amazing kind of love.
And oh how I loath myself now.
You would probably be unable to look at me, because I think you would be able to feel it radiating off of me like something poisonous, if you were to even consider being in the same area code as me.
I made you cry.
The last time I felt that much pain was when I gave birth to my daughter.
But it had to be done, because I don’t think my self then could have handled you telling me flat eyed and distant that you think we should take a break from each other, and then next week see you with another girl, that same look in your eyes that you gave me.
I could not endure that.
So what better way to suffer now, huh, then to live every day in that same pain that I feared most?
Karma slapped me hard.
And not because I did something like kill, cheat, or lie, but because I wanted to protect myself, and let you go.
Because I wanted to remember you in all of your good, before you could ever possibly hurt me, before you became like every other guy who has ever hurt me.
And even though I physically ache for you everyday, all I remember are beautiful things, because the only bad that came from us was your pleading for me to change my mind. And I had made you do that, because I left you. You never did anything wrong and I know you know that. I just wish you knew why I did it. I don’t think you would believe me even if you gave me the chance to explain.
The greatest gift that can be given to me is a clear memory when I die, because all I want to see, and think about before I never breathe again, see again, think again, feel again, is you.
You are the only reason I can say with confidence to my daughter that there is a person out there who set’s your soul on fire. There is a person out there, out of the billions of people on earth, who can make you feel like nothing in life is impossible, that there is a beautiful kind of love, a heartbreaking gorgeous kind that makes you feel so amazing you outshine the sun. And I want to tell her that no matter what, don’t ever rob yourself of that. I’ll practically beg her, to never, ever, ever settle.
Don’t even consider that you aren’t good enough, because at 16, what in the world could you have possibly done to not deserve that?