A little letter to….The BoyPosted: May 23, 2011
We joked wryly about the apocalypse that everyone else laughed so flippantly over.
On the inside, on some level, we were believers.
Everyone joked as the day ended and they were still in one piece.
But we didn’t.
Our worlds – correction: our world – did end that day.
By midnight, we’d dismantled the life we’d created together and I slept alone in what had been our bed, staring at a blank future.
Subconsciously, I’d tried to warn us a few weeks early.
Without fail, whenever I feel like I’m losing control of things, I cut my hair stupidly short or I stubbornly attempt to pierce the cartilage in my ear yet again.
This time is was the hair.
I was too preoccupied with other things to pick up on it and you just didn’t see anything unusual about it.
Why would you?
I haven’t felt the need to do either of those things in four years.
That night, I sat with The Bessie watching the rain pour down, while the wind howled around the now too-big house, and I was unable to verbalise what exactly had led to all this.
You and I knew.
We could feel it.
It was nothing concrete.
There was no anger or hate.
Sadness in its purest form.
We felt helpless.
We’d tried so hard.
We were still more in love than we’d ever imagined possible.
But somewhere along the line we’d lost something – that elusive something – and that missing cog had sent us into a tailspin.
I know you would’ve kept us going.
You would’ve ignored the absence of The Something and convinced yourself everything was fine.
To be honest, as you gathered up your bags on that last trip out our front door, my own resolve wavered and I came so close to asking you to stay, which of course you would have.
In a heartbeat.
But in the end, I loved you too much to do that.
All I wanted – all I want – is to be with you, to have you, but you deserve so much more than this.
You’ve always been like an almost-dream to me.
I could never truly believe that you’d chosen me.
You’re the sweetest boy I’d ever known and you. loved. me.
You were the only person ever to tell me I was beautiful, and while I laughed it off and called you an eejit, I nearly burst with happiness every time you said it, because I knew regardless of truth, you meant it.
You – the most wonderful guy I’d ever know – meant it.
You made me your world.
And you were mine.
The only man in my life to never let me down.
So how could I tie you to this half-relationship?
You deserve so much more.
The perfect girl and the perfect house …with the perfect kids.
When we found out that I might not be able to give you that, you said it didn’t matter.
You didn’t skip a beat and I know in your heart you meant it.
But I wanted you to have everything you wanted.
And you wanted that so badly, regardless of how much you reassured me.
But I never wanted you to know sadness.
It’s a part of me by now, but you’ve managed to stay untouched by real sadness, shining with an almost-innocence and I was starting to taint that.
I hated that.
And maybe that’s what started the downward spiral.
But we’ll never really know.
All we did know was that we were driving ourselves in the ground.
We had no choice.
And so we hacked away the bonds, until we were bloody and bruised, but separate.
Not free, though.
Maybe not ever.
I feel like there’s a giant hole in my chest.
Like someone took out a huge chunk of me and is now expecting me to survive without it.
Every now and again a wave crashes down on me, knocking the air out of my lungs and crushing my body, so that I feel hopeless and helpless.
I collapse wherever I am and sob until I can breathe again.
Until I can get back on top of it all and squash it into that tattered shoebox for another short while.
I know you’re going through the same thing in your own way.
And I hate that.
I want nothing more than to take it all from you, so you feel light again.
But I can’t.
I can’t make this better for you.
And that’s the worst part of all of this.
That’s why I stayed in our house.
That’s why I curl up on our couch.
That’s why I sleep in our bed.
So you can get away from the memories.
So you have a chance to feel better even if I can only make it happen a little but quicker.
I love you.
But that’s not how it worked out and now I sit here knowing that you’re the best thing to ever happen to me and that I don’t have you any more.
I will spend every second praying and hoping and wishing for you to be a part of my life again.
But for now, all I ask is that you try your hardest to be happy.
Because if you’re happy, it makes all this worth while.
It will help me to keep going.
Help me to survive.
And that’s all I can hope for right now.