It’s a funny thing, last night I cried because as I wanted
to remember what it was like to be held by the one person I’m supposed to love,
all I could remember was kissing you, your fingers laced through mine. It felt
like a huge injustice, like I was being cheated of the happy memories I was
supposed to have.
I got lost in the night, in the drinks, in the lights and
smoke. I let it wash over me, dull all my senses. All I did was run from you because
I couldn’t deal with the thought of a life devoid of you. I knew we ended for
many reasons, but the lights were too bright and the music was too loud and I couldn’t
think of a single one.
And then, this morning I woke up and I felt…okay. Maybe I won’t
drink so much because there isn’t so much pain to numb, maybe I won’t run from
remembering because it doesn’t hurt so much to remember. Maybe you have to let
yourself hurt before you let yourself heal.
I guess I’m okay without you, I can live. I don’t need you
to complete me anymore. I’m not a 5th grade art project, I am not a
1000 piece puzzle missing a piece, I am not yours, I belong to no one but
myself.
Or perhaps there is an empty space between hurting and being
okay, and I've merely stumbled blindly into it. But for the first time in a
long time, my whole body doesn’t ache with I think of you. Maybe I've fallen
into the gap, but I think I’ll stay a while.
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