It’s gotten worse. Two days from now it will be five months since the last time I saw you. Since our last conversation. Since the day you told me you knew I how I felt about you. And that crazy conversation, after everything, I felt like I was missing something from the four years of our story. You took advantage of me. You used me. And I’ve been over this before but it’s true. You traumatized me and abused me and I believe you know it. You aren’t stupid. But you know what else is true? I still love you.
It’s gotten worse. It isn’t disappearing. I wish it would. I wish I could rip it all from myself and bury it. But at the same time I cling to it for dear life. I can’t sleep without imagining a scenario where I see you again. Where you hug me and tell me it’s all going to be alright. Where you see the damage you caused and you tear up at just the sight of me. But I wouldn’t want you to be sad for any satisfaction of my own, out of malice, but out of pure emotion from seeing me again. Because I want nothing more then to run into you somewhere. Anywhere.
You want an update? I miss you more then ever. More then ever. I don’t even know what I miss. I believe it’s from the PTSD. From my brain not knowing what to do with the trauma. Not knowing what to do without feeling that constant pain. Without the constant head spinning emotions. So it won’t let go of me. It grabs me at the least expected moments and shakes me to my core, begging my body to feel the pain of you once more.
And I allow it. I wish for it. I beg for it. I pray to the sun the stars and the moon to bring me back to face you. I never prepared to not be around you. But then it all came crashing down. This has been the worst year of my life, you know? By far. Someone asking me what the worst thing that has ever happened to me, I can’t answer. For so much. Too much. Has happened. I can’t even figure out what the worst part of it was.
It hurts me to know you have no idea where I am anymore. I don’t live at home. I don’t go to church. I don’t dance. I can’t do those things because they remind me of you. I had to leave home because of awful circumstances surrounding my family. We have been split apart. We are no longer a unit and I place no blame on you but I believe so fully in the hurricanes you caused. You wrecked me causing aftershock storms in every aspect, everywhere.
When it all ended I fell apart and so did my home. I walk aimlessly places remembering when I used to have days I knew I would see you. But now I know there’s no guarantee I’ll ever even see you again. The sky has been trembling ever since, shaking from the force of my absence. I’ve heard the rumors. That people don’t feel safe around you. Because you aren’t a safe individual. But I’ve always craved the danger. I always craved the thrill you brought me. I still do. I don’t know when this withdrawal will end.
I threw myself at people, wishing, praying, that they could make me feel something. That I could take what I felt for you and feel it for them. But it didn’t work. It never worked. The last incident I made a complete and total fool of myself, imagining you, begging the universe to exorcise my you from me as my lips met someone else’s. But once more it cannot simply happen that way. You are a part of me, as I’ve stated before. But I keep hoping that I can change that. I know I’ll love someone else, but your iron burned indentations remain on my heart.
I’ll love someone else because I’ve admitted to myself I am gay. I didn’t just love you from some strange incident. You probably know this about me too. I looked at you with fires burning in my eyes, spirits spilling from my aura.
And I am so beyond this. But yet I stay here.
If you see me somewhere, embrace me. But understand I will stop dead in my tracks and forget how to breathe. I’d forget my own name and my emotions would become my being. As they always did. It would be a rush unlike any other, understand I will be in no state to say what needs to be said.
But please read my eyes as you always did before. You always knew.