There’s An Empty Space On Your Side Of The Bed

Thought.Is

You took up most of the space on my single bed. Even though you kept as close to the wall as possible, I’d always find myself slipping off the edge of my mattress almost falling over. I liked it that way, because for a moment I’d be sleepily looking over watching you sleep soundly, trying to inch my body closer to you for warmth – away from the edge. Sometimes you’d feel me move and pull me into your arms. I felt secure in those moments.

Funny thing is our relationship was much like that. I was always halfway hanging unto us, trying to keep close to you while keeping myself at safe distance away from the girl you were trying so hard to turn me into.

I was never enough. Just like the small space of my single bed. We just didn’t quite fit.

You were passionate and kind to me, but also stubborn and persuasive. Never taking no for an answer. It was difficult talking to you, trying to express my feelings and opinions seemed almost futile and pointless. You kept trying to fit me into a box. A box of an idea of me, a concept of me, you created in your head.

But I am not an idea, or a concept, I do not come in parts and I certainly cannot fit inside your box, or anyone else’s in fact.

Even though you never failed to remind me of all the things you wish you could change about me, of all the parts of me that simply weren’t “ideal” enough for you – I loved you.

I loved you whole-heartedly and unconditionally, I never expected anything more than for you to love me the same way. I felt trapped being completely in love with someone who only liked certain parts of me.

Some nights in my single bed were spent keeping each other up with petty arguments that seems senseless and pointless now that we no longer get to talk. Instead of wasting all that time arguing about how different we were, I wish we gave each other a chance to experience those differences together.

You could’ve been learning acceptance but instead you pushed me away because your perception of how I should, or could be always proved to be more important than actually loving me the way I needed to be loved.

You broke my heart. Again and again.

I remember all the times you threatened to leave me, I knew I couldn’t change who I was because I was comfortable with who I am, so I let you walk away as many times as you liked.

But I always left the door open for you to come back, only for the same process to repeat itself over and over again.

My mistake, turning my heart into an open door, an empty room – always available to you.

Like I said, I loved you. It didn’t matter that you walked all over me. Because all I wanted was for you to experience happiness. I wanted to show you unconditional love and affection. I wanted to treat you with kindness and help you experience life in a different perspective other than your own.

You said I made you happy, that you’ve never truly experienced happiness before I came along. It was hard to believe that because of how many times you’d cry because of your inability to accept the way things were, to accept me as I am. I was making you happy but also making you so sad. I kept you close each time you cried. I didn’t know what else I could do. I could never be cold to you.

But I had to, and I have now. I’m sorry.

You made me doubt myself and my own beliefs that took years to cultivate and to feel confident about. You doubted my morals and my values and accused me of being capable of things I just wasn’t capable of doing. It tore me apart. I knew I had to leave you.

But they don’t tell you how hard it is to walk away from someone who is not all bad, from someone who lifts you up just as much as he puts you down.

They don’t tell you that being depressed while being in love with someone who is equally as depressed is the basic definition of chaos. Two people who are starving for happiness cannot help make one another happy. They need to first be happy with themselves before being able to share in each other’s happiness.

We were both unwatered plants looking to infect each other with the same disease of decay, and in order to feel less alone we helped fill each other’s void all the while pretending like we knew what being happy was.

We were toxic for each other. The happiness we experienced together was short-lived even though the memory of our happy moments could distort our perception of impermanence. It was temporary and fleeting. As transient as our human lives.

Anyways, you’re gone now. I go on sleeping alone in my single bed. It’s not a big deal. I’ve laid here in this space all on my own before you came along.

But I want you to know that part of me will always ache for you to fill the side of the bed close to the wall, part of me wants to be half falling off the edge struggling to find my way back into your arms. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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