Nights are always hard. They are when I feel most lonely, most sad, most vulnerable. If I was an artist, I would paint a night sky riddled with stars, basking in the glow of the moon and I would entitle it The Art of Missing You.
From the day I met you, missing you has become an art.
Your absence during the day is felt at times, although I am able to busy my mind just enough to not get lost in memories of us. But when the world has gone to sleep, I lay in bed and that is when my whole self screams for you. My body, my mind, my heart.
A deafening silence has settled between us and in the past, I was all too keen to break it. I was so blinded by my love for you that I reached out to you time and time again, even when I knew that you were already gone. You gave me crumbs of your attention, crumbs of your time and I was content with that. It is a wonder how a handful of special moments with you became my safety blanket, deluding me from the months of loneliness you left me in.
Lying in bed that lonely night, your silence was speaking to me. It was telling me tales of a man who was never serious about being with me. Dead-end stories of a man who gave me hope only to turn around and leave me hanging when reality turned out differently than he expected.
Your silence painted blurry images of a love you have for another girl. Of sunny beaches, and mountain slopes where she is with you because you left me behind.
Yet it was in your silence that I found my answers and it is in your silence that I am slowly, painfully and steadily moving on.
Your silence is a harsh and much needed reminder that I deserve far more than what you were willing to give me. Your silence is grounding me in the truth that you haven’t been good for me, and rather than fighting to stay in your life, I need to walk away and take care of my own.
I will hold on to this love within me and give it to someone who will not only receive it wholly, but give me his love in equal measure.