It was a painful eight minutes. I figured it was time. I had spent months running my finger over the title, only a memory of the melody. It felt like forever ago yet yesterday. A pain yet a comfort. Like a last present given to me that I had yet to open, but the wrapping paper covered in thorns.
It was the last corner I had left to turn over. The last place of the memory to visit. Something I hadn’t yet analyzed. Something I was putting off. Never forgetting though. I thought about it often. I think about it all often. Each day I realize something new, each moment in every memory I’ve already visited hundreds of times there is something new I find.
But this. I knew this would be intense. It would be something that would take me back to a hundred different moments I would then have to be hit with. It has been exactly six months. Since the last day I saw you. Since the last day I walked out those doors and watched you standing in the parking lot as I left. I couldn’t tell if you were sad, even though there were tears. It was more a pain I couldn’t quite grasp myself, even though I felt it. It was that you expected this, you knew this was coming. I didn’t.
I knew there was a day out there when I would say my final words. But I had no idea how soon it was coming. I was in no way prepared. You took the words right out of my mouth. There was a song. A song that played in the room that I met you in. Every day of my last days it played. It played as I watched you, it played as I danced. It played as I talked to you, as I hugged you. As I looked you in the eyes. As my being shattered time and time again.
As I cried, as I got angry. As I sat, as I stood. As I danced. As I fell, deeper, and deeper. Just when I thought I had hit the bottom I would be taken further. Pushed farther underneath until there was no light. But the song still played. And you heard it too. You heard it countless times. You heard it in your house. You heard it in your car. You heard it in that place. You heard it with me. I watched you close your eyes and choreograph. As you constructed every next step, as you counted the beats and tapped your fingers to the timing of the chorus.
I was always so enticed with how you did that. The song was beautiful. The process was beautiful. The finished product would have been beautiful if it were not a symbol of how it all collapsed. The ocean waves truly did come in and take me with them. Leaving you on the shore.
I sit now in an unfamiliar space. In a home not really my own. I sat against the wall, my head in my heads. The speaker connected and my fingers trembling to press the play button. I close my eyes and my mind takes me back. I see you in the corner and I see you dancing, I remember every step and I remember every word. I can almost taste the air and feel everything that I felt. The pain overtakes me again yet tinted with that sweetness I have so craved. It was a hit, one like every other time I was there. It brought me into a trance and I had to remind myself I was only visiting.
I reached out as those beats hit and I remembered that one one of the moments of my favorite moments, when I couldn’t even look at you as I was talking to you because I knew my face said too much. I could see you again. I could feel you.
I saw myself spinning around, watching you watching me. The adrenaline running through me, you, watching me. It was a high unlike any other. It fed my entire existence.
It was as though the song was a teleport and I had to pull myself from the world because it was one that no longer existed. I spoke the words to myself once again. I am just a visitor. This was a trap. This was your prison. This was your hell. This was what held you down, this was what sucked the oxygen from your lungs. It was your morphine, and she was the queen of your drip.
The song ends and all I could do was collapse.
Like I did every other time it ended.
I was just a visitor to a world that was never even mine.
I should be happy, no longer in restraints.
But I have never felt more confined.