I feel numb. I feel like no matter how hard I try, I can’t breathe.
I’m stuck in your riptide, drowning underneath the wave of you, and honestly, I don’t know if I want to save myself. I let you into my life; I let your love take me over. I let you make me so blissfully happy that it was contagious. I let myself believe you were the one I had been waiting for my entire life. You were my gift for surviving all the bad guys and legitimate sociopaths I dated. You made the trauma, the lessons, the pain that I not only endured but overcame all worth it.
And suddenly, all of it made sense. We both had baggage, but yours matched mine. You once said it was all worth it because it was part of what made us appreciate each other more, that it helped lead us to each other. We were far from perfect, but we were perfectly imperfect.
I can feel your waves crashing down on me, drowning me. Crushing me so hard I can’t move, I can’t breathe, I can’t see the surface.
I need to get up. I need to move on. I need to breathe again.
But I can’t.
Even if you came back, it wouldn’t matter; you let our relationship drown with me. You made assumptions and you went with it. You saw something you didn’t like and you ran. You left me standing there, blindsided and holding this weight as the waves overtook me and held me down. You didn’t give me the respect of a conversation; you acted like I didn’t mean enough for you to even try to make it work.
But it doesn’t make any sense. This isn’t you. This isn’t us.
I keep trying to grasp at something to hold onto, something to pull me up, some kind of reason this is all happening. But I keep coming up short. I want to give myself some reason, that you were scared, that it wasn’t me, that you did love me the same way I loved you.
I want to believe so bad that it was all real.
I thought I was in love with the man who would always choose me, who wouldn’t leave when it got hard. I was in love with the man who knew how I liked my coffee and which blanket was my favorite to snuggle up in. Who knew I wanted his hand on my leg when we were in the car, who knew exactly how to cheer me up, who got me through the death of my dog. I thought I was in love with the man who loved cooking, used a towel way too many days in a row, and was crazy about how I squeezed the toothpaste. Who always gave me a kiss and my favorite hoodie, no matter how busy he was. Who did everything with a smile, with grace, with love. Because that man wouldn’t do this to me. Because that was real—we were real.
He wouldn’t let me drown in the weight of us falling apart. He would try to save me. Because with him, I never doubted where I stood or his feelings. I never doubted how much I meant to him. He always made sure I knew his feelings were real.
But I know somewhere deep down that they couldn’t have been. Because if they were, you would have tried. You would have fought for me; you would have fought for us. You wouldn’t make up excuses, you wouldn’t leave me blindsided, and you wouldn’t let me drown in my heartbreak.
My mind makes me feel so worthless. I wish that I could hold onto that unwavering love again. I wish I could hold onto that contagious happiness you used to give me. I wish I could fake the smile I couldn’t peel off my face when I was with you.
I wish you cared more; I wish you believed in me more. I wish you fought for me. I wish you saw me the way I see you, loved me the way I love you. I wish you thought I was worth it.
I wish you didn’t leave me gasping for air, trying to find the answers for all of this.
I wish you never gave up on me. Because I never would have given up on you.