You’re a reminder of my vulnerability.
So I avoid thinking about you, about us. Thinking about us means it was real. Pretending that you never existed is easier than accepting who I became.
And maybe that’s selfish; avoiding what I once thought as forever to spare my feelings. Feelings that have decided to emerge and haunt me.
Remembering you is allowing darkness come into light where I don’t want it to be shown. It means digging up faults I’ve purposely buried in hopes that I would forget.
But I haven’t and I won’t.
And so I’m left with no choice but to remember. Forced to feel the unhappiness that was felt back then.
The hard part is convincing myself that I am a good person. Am I?
Remembering you causes me to cringe. The shame pulls me back in, I push the thoughts back out.
Remembering you steals away the ability to move forward. Stuck in time, stuck in the past.
Worst of all, remembering you proves I’m unworthy of any love.
It must get tiring to live that way. Always questioning if what is given to you will be taken away. Accustomed to broken promises and fake apologies. Always on stand by, keeping a close watch. Quietly choosing what to accept; what to reject before it rejects you. Because who better than yourself to decide what you are worthy of. Am I worthy of your loving? Secretly hoping that someone will tear through. But how? When you’re so good at keeping them out. Secrets weighing down your heart, untold stories replaying in your head. And it’s toxic, but you do it anyways. Self punishment you say. So you limit yourself to how much happiness you feel, because you think it’s fair. God forbid you take it all in just to have it taken away. You know better than that, this is the price to pay.
I won’t let myself forget.
Of all the things you could think about, and that’s what you choose? Why do you do this to yourself? Constantly searching for something that makes you hurt. Is it because you think you deserve it? Have we not made peace with the past? When will this pattern be broken? When will you realize that today matters. Not yesterday. And certainly not tomorrow. Is it possible that you have not forgiven yourself? You repeat it time after time, “you are not your past, you are not your mistakes” yet again, once more, it returns to torment you. You allow it to torment you. Because deep down you know, that this is what you deserve. Because deep down you believe this is what you should put yourself through. You SHOULD hurt, and so you do. When is it going to be enough? Whose to say you’ve not already paid your debt? When will you stop?
When will you quit this self destructive play?
I’ll never understand why the love Gods decided to give me you. For some odd reason, I’ve been given a second chance at loving. And what a privilege it has been falling in love with you. You’ve got the most perfect eyes, perfect lips, the perfect laugh; I didn’t stand a chance. I knew I’d fall for you and, my God, have I fallen. Love has shown no mercy on my heart.
You. With your smile that’s bigger than this universe. With a laugh that sounds like comfort. With hands that fit perfect in mine. And eyes that I find myself getting lost in again and again. Here I am, wanting more. Afraid of breaking this spell, I pray I can keep you forever. Love sounds good to me if it’s going to come from you. Will you, won’t you, be mine? Let me spend every November of the rest of my life with you.
You can try, I won’t stop you. But you’re going to fail just like the rest. Not because your Incompetent. No. Instead, you’ll prove the very thing I am most afraid of; that you’re just like the rest of them. Have I not made myself clear? I’m beyond repair! There is no fixing what is already broken. So. You can decide to create out of me something better with whatever there is left… or you can fail at trying to fix me just like they all did. How can I be so sure? Because. The moment I realize that you’re still holding on to the hammer and nails.. is the moment I realize you’re not listening. You must surely know, that if I could, I would have fixed my own self a long time ago.
Let me simplify it. Don’t question my silence. I find comfort in it. And a person who’s learned to romance her demons doesn’t need a coward, instead, proof that your willing to fight them beside her instead of fighting them for her. If you don’t understand what that means, than you don’t belong here.
Rachel Wolchin said “I never wanted someone to buy me flowers. I wanted someone who’d plant them knowing that I’d be around when the flowers blossomed” I need something like this.
I’ve learned to love the wildest parts of me. And once you learn that what I don’t need is saving, than I’ll show you how to love me too.