As the memory of you started to become blurry in my mind, the easier the weight on my shoulders felt. It’s not like I wanted to forget you. No, definitely not. But I had to move on with my life. After all, it’s been months since I’ve last openly spoken your name. There are so many things I wish I could change. But knowing I can’t change them makes me wish I could just tell you what’s on my mind, before you’re gone forever.
Sometimes, when no one is around, I’ll let the feelings flood back. I miss so much about you. I forgave you the moment you wronged me, you know. I can’t hate you for being my first everything. I just wanted you to be my only everything. Too bad it didn’t happen.
I don’t know whether I’m scared or excited to fall asleep each night. Because I know that you’ll inadvertently make an unannounced visit in my dreams. I’m unsure if I’m ashamed to admit that this happens daily. Sometimes I wish you’d just stop impeding on my dreams, just for once, so I could feel less crazy inside. After all, you did leave me only what feels like forever ago. I think it’s my subconscious telling me I can’t let you go. But I can’t show openly anything that relates to you, so I have to hide you in my dreams.
Occasionally, I like to dream that you come and find me. That you press up on me from behind, bend down and whisper in my ear, wrap your arms around me, and tell me how much you miss me. Sometimes, I turn around and capture your words with my lips and push against yours in complete forgiveness. Nothing is more spine-shivering than hearing you chant my name. What I wouldn’t give to hear you say it just one more time. Logic retaliates and tells me that it’s not possible. But they say anything can happen when you dream. I suppose the iridescent colors your eyes shine are just a trick of my mind, or the reality of the way I viewed the windows to your soul.
I never hated you, not once. I was angry at the world, sure. Distraught at what you did, absolutely. Wishing for a rewind button, absolutely. But no, I don’t hate you. I just dislike the circumstance.
I’m also terrified that if I do ever see you again, or hear from you, that I won’t have the resolve to face you with dignity. I used to tell everyone that if I saw you, I’d punch you in the face. But my heart thinks otherwise. I’m afraid that I’ll just blurt out every secret I’ve ever kept dear to me. That I’d tell you all that you’d missed over being without me.
That I’d fall down to my knees before you and admit that I absolutely, without a doubt, NEVER stopped loving you. Even as I lay in the arms of another man, your eyes are the last thing I think of before I fall asleep. When he beds me, I sometimes close my eyes and pretend he’s not there. You know what happens in that moment?
I close my eyes and recall the candles lit around my room. The sweet time-taking of undressing each other with our eyes and hands. The fun we had with the candy. The slow, and orgasmic thrusts. The music playing in the background, as you matched the beat with your hips. I remember falling into a state of ecstasy where your name was sung higher than the notes coming out of the speaker. You were the only person who has ever given me that feeling. EVER.
It kills me inside to think you just let us go. I never dreamed of anyone but you, and you left me for some other person. Not that he wasn’t a good man, but he definitely wasn’t you. No, most certainly not. But do you think I could stand in front of you and tell you this? You said I was stubborn, not brave. I don’t think I’m brave enough.
My current boyfriend tore down my things in my room. He said it was like a tomb, and that I needed to get rid of all memorabilia of you if I wanted to fully move on. I was working while he did it. When I came home, I had the worst panic attack I’ve had in a while. The roses you bought me, that I’d pressed and kept hung up, were gone. My pictures of us, no longer on my dresser. My diary entries, shredded. I was actually livid. I clawed at where your Valentine’s card used to be. I walked to my nightstand and brushed my fingers over the missing ring, walked to my closet and couldn’t find your jacket. And suddenly, I collapsed to the floor. I knew his intentions were true, considering you were no longer in the picture. But something inside of me felt like I did six months ago. My room seemed… empty. I never fathomed in a million years I could feel so disoriented in a world so clear.
You see, you left stains on my heart. But I never told you that you left scars, and open wounds, and cracks, and stitches; Chains with no keys, wires with spikes. A life support barely trying to keep my heart beating.
Half of me tried to reason that you didn’t deserve to stay like a ghost, haunting me wherever I go. The other half was still the sad, lost, little girl who didn’t know the meaning of letting go.
When I would black out on my boyfriend, he had no idea what to do. When I got violent during an episode, he’d get violent right back. He said it was all in my head. That I needed to stop pretending to be sick. It crushed me, because I couldn’t control it. It crushed me, because you always knew I wasn’t to blame.
I really think I could move on with this man, but I’m not sure I could ever love him. I mean, I do love him. Just not “in love”. Because it would require understanding and commitment that neither of us knew how to give each other.
You are a constant strain on our relationship. He angers easily because when I try to talk about my past, even a fun memory, somehow your name slips out. He gets frustrated when I try to profusely apologize, because there isn’t hardly a part of my past that didn’t somehow include you. He asked me to just keep my mouth shut about it. I have. I don’t tell him about going to an ice cream place, or seeing horses, or camping, or any of the sort. I don’t tell him about my awkward first times, or playing games until I fell asleep. About going to prom for the first time, or putting makeup on a guy.
It’s surreal, trying to rebuild trust with someone else after you gave everything away. It’s hard to give him sexual drive when it doesn’t feel the same. It’s gutting to try to do things with your complete heart, but not feel up to par.
I guess what I’m trying to tell you is that…. I wish so badly for one of two things: Either please, leave my life for good. Exit my head and heart and banish my memories so I can truly find peace. Or B, please, hear me cry every night and run to me to wipe away the tears. It’s hard to answer if I’d let you back in, but I guess I’ll have to wait it out and see.
Always and Forever, Until the Last Star Dies,