It’s happened again.
I’ve tried everything. Herbal supplements, meditation, nature sounds, breath work. My mind won’t let me rest, though every last portion of me pleads with sullen groans for relief. I thought that today, in spite of the tears, in spite of the sudden waves of sorrow, I was handling it all a bit better. Clarity seemed within reach. Now, I toss and turn, suddenly overheated in a room where I usually shiver without multiple blankets. My eyelids hang heavy and yet my overactive brain summons up one memory of you after another. One sweet gesture after another. How am I helpless against my own mental torture?
Take me back to the nights where I fell solidly asleep in your arms, the nights before we started having difficulties before your every slightest move woke me with concern for your comfort. Take me back to that juvenile twin bed that forced us to cling to each other with the bravado of new, impetuous love. I felt happier there with you than I ever have since. Now I struggle to find any method of peaceful rest in a bed so large, so deliciously plush, so empty of your presence.
I know that our lovely romance is severed for good, and yet I have no will to let go.
If only I could push the thoughts down long enough to fall into the oblivion of night and release myself temporarily, until the morning nags and prods with unwanted realities.
It seems obscene that the human body is capable of producing so much grief without shriveling up completely to grant some sort of ending release.
I loved you with my whole heart when you never gave me more than a portion of your own. And yet, despite my past, despite all my previous experiences, I still somehow believed that I could will you into letting yourself go. I was determined to adore you so completely that you had no choice but to fall in love with the abundance of my affection for you. Think of what I could accomplish if I had the wherewithal to bring some of that dogged stubbornness to the other aspects of my existence, but no – I live to love those who cannot give me the same in return.
I live to break my own heart, over and over and over again.
What I would give to lay my head down once more in that concave nook of your collarbone, where it fit like an unexpected return to home. I felt safe there in a way that I rarely ever do. You saw me, and you accepted me, and you loved me. In spite of every new obstacle, every curve thrown into our path, you did your damnedest to keep me, long after we both knew you’d given up in the marrow of your bones.
I don’t know if I’m ever going to stop loving you, not really. You were my dream come true, notwithstanding your inevitable humanity. You were the one who exposed my true self and left me shivering there, afraid but trusting. And then you were the one who walked away.