It’s the same dream. The same dream that used to be reality. There’s something deep inside of him that feeds something so dark within me that it’s the only thing that makes me feel sane. Maybe that was the draw to something I knew I should have stayed away from.
We got each other. From the second we met, we just got each other. Much to other people’s chagrin. And even though we were completely wrong and unhealthy in every way, I lived for the late night texts. I lived for those chance encounters. It was an addiction to see what was going to happen next. It was the complete rush of freedom that I felt when I was with him that made everything bad seem OK. Because there was a lot of bad.
I could see it in his soul, in his heart that there was something completely fucked up. It was fine though because it was the same fucked up that I knew all too well. You can have different backgrounds, come from different stories but still have the same insecurities and self-doubt that is completely mirrored.
The moments it was just the two of us were the moments I liked. I didn’t want anything else. I used him as sanctuary. I don’t even know if I liked him much. Mostly though because he reflected the parts of me I don’t like.
So I gave him the acceptance and love I couldn’t give myself.
It was easier that way anyways.
I shouldn’t have been surprised when he shut me out. I mean I would have eventually done it too. It was nature of the game. As soon as something doesn’t go the exact way I want it then I leave it. It’s much easier to leave it than to deal with it. But still it hurt when he decided for both of us that it wasn’t working anymore. No conversation. No reasons. Just gone.
It made leaving easier. I was never in love with him or saw him as my future but I still wanted to end things on my terms. Maybe that was my ego. He had gotten the leg up on me so it had pissed me off completely. And man was I angry at him. Drunken texts from weeks previous had proven that to me. I had said things I didn’t even know I could say. I had managed to express my feelings without backing down.
But was it the sex or the person I wanted? Was it the person who had told me the things I needed to hear versus the things I wanted to hear always that made me keep wanting to come back for more? No that wasn’t it. It was the fact that I wanted to be temporarily fixated on something other than myself.
I wanted to get lost in someone else’s shit because my own is too much for me.
The problem with addiction is that if he ever popped back into my life I don’t think I would be able to stop wanting him. Because his darkness is hauntingly beautiful. I feel the internal conflict of wanting to hate him but wanting to hold him. Wanting to punch him in the throat but wanting to kiss his temples. Wanting to let him go but wanting to know that he’ll somehow always be around.
There is more to life than spending it with someone who can simultaneously make you feel alive while killing something deep within you. He drained me. He has made me question things about myself I didn’t even know I felt awful about. Or maybe he just brought them to light. Brought the feelings I had managed to ignore for years. Maybe his purpose was to make me deal with my insecurities.
So he’s given me a gift really. He left before he could mess me up more and he showed me somethings I need to start fixing. And while I’ll never thank him because I’m still so angry, so hurt from things that happened, I know that his purpose was to shine a light into my soul that only I could see.
And for that I could never hate him. Not even a little.