I wish I knew where to begin. I wish I had some kind of certain or definite emotion to express. But I don’t.
You were the one man I had never doubted, hated, or questioned. I never felt I had a reason to. Looking now, I feel maybe I was just that naive, choosing to have a blind eye because I didn’t want you to become less of a person. It’s not that I didn’t see your faults or problems…Perhaps I saw many of them moreso than others. And the ones I saw, I accepted. I knew exactly what they felt like. I had lived or was currently living through that same pain. But perhaps I was not as keen to scrutinize for anything else. Perhaps I was too accepting of what your job entailed. The choices and options it provided for your life.
I know that while both in Colorado, there was no other - that was fairly blatant and evident in our communication - digitally or in person. But I never once thought to consider the times when we didn’t talk. When we couldn’t. The times you would disappear, and life would continue on without you.
And perhaps, my biggest error in scrutiny, was not looking more into your final disappearance. The lie that utterly destroyed my life. The lie that broke my resolve of being strong. The phone call that uprooted everything I had worked for, to overcome. The one thing that drove me back into alcoholism. I never pushed for better answers. Not that I would have gotten them…I wasn’t a spouse. I shouldn’t have received the call in the first place.
And then, for you to just…reappear 2 1/2 years later, to derail me from the already terribly shaky ground I could barely stand upon. The only thing stopping me from driving to Kentucky that weekend was my roommate… She knew. She knew I’d make a last second decision. That I’d forgo all responsibility and get in my car and drive myself hours just to see you. She knew nothing could stop me from being reckless. And she fought as hard as she could to find reasons to keep me there. To keep me from recklessly going across the country and have my heart shattered even more.
I’ve come to accept certain parts of your disappearance. That you suffered a TBI and have memory loss… That I choose to believe. But that it was the reason you disappeared in the first place… I’m not so sure of that. The more I am able to step back and look at things. The more I am able to pull myself into objectivity. I see the flaws. I see the fractures where things don’t quite line up. Perhaps it makes me the most terrible person for not being able to do this anymore.
I can’t continue my life…waiting and holding out that you were the one big love of my life and that I finally got you back. I can’t keep naively believing that you stopped calling because you deployed and were injured and then started to remember me later. As nice of an idea as it is, to finally know that you did love me enough that it was one of the things that began to seep back into your memories…. It’s too painful to return to.
Even knowing my offer initially. That I would be there, that you could talk to me about anything. You made the choice to not… You made the choice to take on silence… and to reappear for brief moments, just long enough and just passionately enough with your words, to make me believe again that you still loved me and us after all that time.
I’m not that person anymore. I’m not someone who can just…blindly hope and believe. I can’t just close my eyes, smile, and trust. I’ve been betrayed too many times…even by this…by you. I’ve become a person who questions the silences. Who reads between the lines - intentional or not - who sees the subtle hints that maybe I wasn’t that important. And it hurts. It cuts through me. In part to feel that I was that gullible when it came to you, and in part because I know I let myself be hurt…all because I wanted so desperately to believe I was worth being loved.
It hurts to even admit to. Because I know that inside, I am still that broken and damaged girl…who has never quite been reassured that she deserves to be loved and care for unconditionally. Who has never been reassured that she’s worth being loved just because of who she is and not for what she can provide or do for the other person. It hurts to admit that I’m so utterly terrified of being loved. To admit that I might actually deserve something and someone good to happen to me.
The past couple days I feel as though I’m perched on this precipice…staring into the empty and hollow void that demolishes dreams and hopes. Staring down into the blackness that has so efficiently swallowed so much of me in the past. The blackness that threatens to swallow me even now, when I’m finally getting back on my feet, finally feeling as though my dreams will be attainable, feeling that THIS TIME…this will be the time i succeed. And I find myself absolutely gripped with terror. I’m afraid to continue walking forward. I’m afraid of pushing myself to do and be better. I’m afraid of putting forth the effort…because what if I do…and what if, this time is just like the others.
And I hate myself. I can’t look in the mirror and see the strong person others see. I can’t see the glue that holds my friends and family together. I just see this broken, battered, damaged little girl who had big dreams of a better life. And they were just that….just dreams. What if this is the best it ever gets? What if being broken-hearted, lied to, used, and convenient is all I will ever be? What if the best I could hope for is settling for second or third best? What if I can’t attain even the smallest of hopes I have?
What if this is just what my destiny is going to be? Putting other’s lives back together…helping others be better people, to be more whole…just be pushed aside and hurt. What if that’s my entire purpose in this world? To be the person who shows others what they are capable of, who shows them just how much of a better person they can be…and then they don’t need it anymore. Don’t need me. And I’m forgotten.
As I stare into the blackness…into the void that has so successfully consumed so much of my life thus far…. I find myself utterly torn. Torn between the decision to continue the fight and struggle to attain my dreams…. or the decision to just let it all go. To give up on myself, to let go of the optimist and just… be. To just continue living without desiring betterment. Without desiring the idea that I deserve a better person for a mate. To completely settle. And to never look back at the shiny, happy, hopeful person who once lived inside me. The person who drove me to continue to defy all the expectations everyone had for me as a child. All of that effort….but where has it brought me? What has it done for me, other than continue to cause disappointment, pain, loss, and self-doubt? What have I done for me that has been for betterment that hasn’t forced me into a painful price to be paid?
I don’t know what to think or believe anymore. I don’t know how to fight anymore. I don’t know if I’m even strong enough to fight. Everywhere I look, I have reminders of the pain that has been caused. Reminders of things I’ve struggled, fought, worked for…. things that have been taken utterly away. Or destroyed in some manner that the happiness I once had from them no longer exists.
And I’m left with only this in my mind…. I don’t know anymore if it is more my way of walking away from you - from choosing to leave things be without closure…. or if it’s me walking away from myself. Either way…it haunts.
Gently he pushed her down onto the bed, one hand firmly on her hips, pulling them against his, as he leaned his body against hers. She could feel his breath as his lips whispered across her shoulder and up her neck, coming to finally rest behind her right ear. With his free hand, he brushed her long hair away from her neck, pushing it onto the pillow beside her head. He caressed her cheek and down her jaw line, gently pinching her chin and running his thumb across her lips. Her breath caught in her throat as the hand at her hip slowly began to caress across her ass cheek, slowly taking in each curve her body made coming from her hips, across her lower back and along her ass. His thumb dragged down the line her panties made, and he subtly applied more pressure as he pulled his hand down between her thighs, pressing up against her, one finger teasing the line of lace and making her gasp. His lips were against her shoulder, and she could feel his breath, hot with anticipation, against her skin. He dragged his teeth against her skin, as he took part of her collarbone and bit down. She moaned and arched into him.
Say Something - A Great Big World