It's been about 3 months since everything came to a screeching halt. My life, my love, my plans for the future - all ripped out of my hands in one fell swoop. Looking back on those first few days, I feel my eyes fill with tears and my shoulders tense in anticipation of ever feeling that way again. Even now I can't stand to think of what I became. What I am.
It's true, it eventually got a little easier. I eventually stopped crying myself to sleep and the nightmares stopped jolting me awake after the second month. But I still grieve and I'm not sure how to stop. I still wake up and reach for him - God, I hate that. I wake up and immediately my body seeks his - it's instinct, you see. A heartbreaking instinct that I chastise myself for daily. But there it is.
Some days are easier than others. Sometimes I go hours without thinking of him - I love those hours with everything in me. I think it's safe to say I live for them. And then there's days where I force myself out of bed and into the shower and I go through the motions in hopes that soon they'll come naturally and my life will take shape again. I have less days like that now. Thankfully.
In retrospect, this was probably the second time I've ever truly been in love. I've only felt pain like this once before and I swore that I'd never let it happen again. Childish vows that mean nothing in the wake of a relationship so real and consuming that I can hardly breathe when I think of it.
He called me recently. There was no number on the caller ID to warn me not to, so I picked it up. His voice - every syllable and inflection - I knew it. It resonated with me and his words hit me like a brick to my chest, "I miss you." How unfair that he is able to rob me of my progress with those 3 simple words. Loaded as they are, I wish they had less power over me. I had the same reaction I always do, "Please, don't call me. Let me move on." Maybe he heard the tears come rushing or maybe he felt sorry for me as my tone was more begging than commanding, but I haven't heard from him since.
He called me recently. There was no number on the caller ID to warn me not to, so I picked it up. His voice - every syllable and inflection - I knew it. It resonated with me and his words hit me like a brick to my chest, "I miss you." How unfair that he is able to rob me of my progress with those 3 simple words. Loaded as they are, I wish they had less power over me. I had the same reaction I always do, "Please, don't call me. Let me move on." Maybe he heard the tears come rushing or maybe he felt sorry for me as my tone was more begging than commanding, but I haven't heard from him since.
I can sit here now and close my eyes and I still see him in his essence - all the rage and power and manipulation and grief ... and I can smell his cologne and feel his skin and hear his voice. Those memories have only become clearer over time. Recalling him stuns my senses but I guess that helps me process how I feel. This is how I know it happened.
This is how I know it was real.
It hurts so fucking bad because I loved him and I was all-in, for once in my life. And while that knowledge may not vindicate me, it validates every sleepless night and every broken piece of my heart. I grieve because it happened and my grief is what keeps me from taking him back.
People who truly love you wouldn't make you feel so desperately broken.
This is how I know it was real.
It hurts so fucking bad because I loved him and I was all-in, for once in my life. And while that knowledge may not vindicate me, it validates every sleepless night and every broken piece of my heart. I grieve because it happened and my grief is what keeps me from taking him back.
People who truly love you wouldn't make you feel so desperately broken.
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