As I’m sitting here fantasizing about packing all your things into a box for you to find in place of me I’m realizing more and more how hurt I am. You left for a great journey, one that I both equally support and resent. Support because I’m proud of you and resent because I wasn’t good enough to go. Being able to look past that took time but was possible. Yet, you seem in no rush to return. And I seem unable to not take that personally. Your “can’t wait to see you”s confuse me, because I think you can wait. I’m stuck holding back every single thought and emotion that I have for you because I don’t know how much of it you can handle.
I don’t think you can handle it at all. I think if something isn’t easy for you, you walk away. Your life seems flawless to me. Happily married parents, great siblings… it seems like it’s always just worked out for you. Like you’ve never experienced any form of conflict or pain and like you just naturally avoid it.
I think I am about to be your first real pain. The first thing you won’t be able to walk away from so effortlessly, so painlessly.
But you will walk away and this time I will let you. And you will look back, every day. You might have the support and distractions but you won’t have the emotional capacity or strength to deal with it like I will. You will break and I will watch from a distance.
So I won’t pack your things, and I won’t reveal a single thought. You don’t deserve to know what you won’t understand. I will step back and I will let you leave at your own pace. I will let you go through every ounce of pain you’ve put me through.
Not because I resent you. But because I love you.