• The Day We Died

    by  • November 2, 2016 • * Safe for Work *, To You • 2 Comments

    You said you remember dates. Do you remember the exact day that whatever chance we had shattered? Because I do. It was a murky kind of day, too humid and sunny and hot. That day was a day of finality, it had been too long for me, I could feel my happiness with you fading. But I loved you, or at least I thought I did. I cared about you, so deeply that I tried for weeks to convince myself that I was imagining the distance, dreaming up the lack of chemistry. In fact I led you to our own little place of calamity, I pulled you in and as our lips met, I prayed fervently for a spark, I pleaded with angels and devils, I begged to feel passion and drive and desire.

    I felt nothing. The fighting, the jealousy, the weeks of half truths and dishonesty, the speed of our intensity had left us burnt out. You say you felt no change, but how could you be that blind? How could you be so oblivious, that you couldn’t see our reds and blues fade to greys and faded, washed out hues. How could you watch us go from talking with a purpose every day, kissing at every chance we got, to the ice-lipped stares we’d just exchanged? If that’s all you felt we had, I pity you, because at our height, we were nothing short of twin bolts of lightning.

    And so I’m sorry for that pain I caused, but realize I felt our breakup weeks before you. I had to feel the loss of our electricity. I stood powerless as our connection died, paralyzed by the realization that I was losing you, that I couldn’t help not wanting you, but couldn’t make myself stop loving you. Do you know what that’s like? To feel adoration for someone, to want to care, the idea of causing them pain is physically revolting and terrifying, but you can’t help the lack of passion. You can’t force a feeling or connection.

    You can hate me if you wish. Resent me, because yes, it’s probably easier if you hate me. I’m sure that you’d prefer to think of me as selfish, you want to act as a victim. It’s not difficult to look at a former lover as a villain, its simple and you don’t have to see from a different perspective. But imagine what you’d see if you looked through a mirror and imagined me as complexly as you see yourself.

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    2 Responses to The Day We Died

    1. Hayl
      November 2, 2016 at 11:11 am

      You write to me here as though you know me. As though you ever knew me. I’ve been so reborn since the days you believed you knew who I was. I told you things about myself, sure, but honestly? You know nothing about me. You caused me no pain. I don’t even think about you. I liked you, sure. But you know as well as I do my heart was with her. Not with you. You clearly think about me if you are going so far as to come here and write about such old news. I’ve never hated you or resented you. I don’t look at you as a villain. Why would I have reason to? You seriously need to move on and stop. I respond only because I feel bad for you. This must suck major balls to constantly be thinking about this in such a complex way, when it was nothing more then a small fling when I was vulnerable. You can stop thinking so much into it now and stop pretending you know me or ever did. Seriously, meet someone else or something. I have. Stuff must be super uneventful in your life for you to even care about this anymore. This is quite amusing, thank you.


    2. Hayl @Author
      February 3, 2017 at 11:16 am

      I just wanted to apologize for my above comment, I believed you were my person. That’s the trouble with this site you sometimes feel you have every reason to believe that you know exactly who’s wrote something.

      I just wanted to wish you the best and apologize for polluting your post. It’s beautifully written and I’m sorry you had to go through this, whatever it was.

      Basically my person confirmed that they indeed did not write this letter, and everything has worked out on that front.

      My comment was also not honest. I love my person and was hurt when I thought they wrote this.



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