It’s Exhausting, Loving You

I can’t stop picturing you with her; the way you used to kiss and how you’d hold her close to your body and inhale her scent.

I can’t stop thinking about all of the times you told her you loved her and the life you imagined you’d have together.

I keep wondering how different you are with me, if your touch is less loving, your words less sincere, your heart not in it as much. It’s like this toxic loop inside my head forever spinning, forever drowning me and I can never seem to get enough air. And sometimes I just want it all to stop. I want to lose myself in the darkness of it all, for my lungs to give up, for my mind to stop killing me.

I found this list once of all the things you loved about her and now it’s imprinted inside my head; all the ways I’ll never match up, all of the ways I fall short and I find myself trying to be more like her so maybe you’ll love me just as much. It’s silly really, after all you chose not be with her. In the end, you’re here. With me.

But I often imagine you two there, in your apartment in Chicago eating breakfast together, going to university together and falling into bed at the end of the day and losing yourselves in the tangle of each others bodies. I keep getting flashes of the amount of pain that would have caused me, you leaving. It’s quick and sharp, slicing through my entire body. And then there’s nothing.

Sometimes I want to ask you if you regret it, if when we’re lying there in the darkness, my head resting on your chest, your cheek pressed against my forehead and your fingers running through my hair, if you’re wishing it was her instead of me. It’s exhausting, loving you. Everyday I fight the urge to give up on us and look for something less painful, less of a challenge. But what we have, this all consuming connection, I’m not sure I’ll find it in anyone else. And more than that, I don’t want to. It’s like your lust carved scars into my soul. You’ll always be there, even when you’re not anymore. You’ll be like this shadow forever haunting me. Reminding me of something that could have been so beautiful.