"Juliet, the dice was loaded from the start..." --Romeo and Juliet, Dire Straits
I don't think I've ever properly gotten over you, not like I should have. I can't shove you and your memories back into the blackened parts of my mind, in a feeble attempt to forget all that you've done. You were always a much stronger person than I, and you repeatedly told me you would do everything in your power to make sure you left a scar on the world. Your life goal was to make sure you weren't forgotten, so why did I assume your only ambition and motivation would suddenly cease just because your breathing did?
You haunt my dreams, gemstone. The more I try to cover you up, cover my entire history up--the more you shove your way into every aspect of my life. You're like a Chinese finger trap, you tighten the restrains the more I try to break free. Maybe I do this on purpose, maybe I try to erase you because I don't want to let you go.
Life isn't a browser history, you can't delete what you're ashamed of. But am I ashamed of you? I don't think I'm ashamed. What I'm ashamed of is that I still love you. Maybe I don't still love you, maybe I still love the idea of you. They say when you've given yourself entirely to a person (or vortex, in your case), and suddenly that person is taken from you: you can't be expected to ever move on. Well, J, I have moved on. I've moved on so beautifully. I continue to live my life, despite what a mess it is at times.
But even if I've moved on, your spirit hasn't seemed to. Because you're still here. I've become someone else, I've changed into a better version of me. I don't even know if you'd recognize me. You'd probably say I'd gotten sharper looking, and I guess that's true. I also have gotten taller. But that's not important--the point is, I've changed and you haven't. I break up with you every day, but you still come back to whisper things I had tried to forget over my shoulder. I hear you occasionally, in music. Or in some obscure book passage, or in a poem. It's as if you were shouting at me from a distance, "Hey, Easy, you dumbass--listen to me!"
The other day, I heard a very familiar song. Most people have heard it, after all, it is a classic. But I don't usually listen to the artist, and I don't usually listen to the song. But I heard the lyrics, and I paid attention to words when I should have invested my interest in the tune. It was a Johnny Cash song, called Hurt. It reminded me so much of you, I almost felt as if your ghost was trying to speak to me through it.
But I don't believe in ghosts, I think once you're dead: you're dead. I believe the only ghosts are the ones we create inside ourselves. Especially when people die, because we start the saint process of glorification, and we build little shrines to 'honor' them. We don't care about honoring anyone, we just want to keep the fleeting wisps of a person alive, because we're selfish and we don't like to give things up.
We always had a love-hate relationship. We loved to hate each other, we loved to hate ourselves. But I know we also loved each other, and I know we hated to do that. Especially you, you always hated how I made you feel. But you loved it, too. We were each others dirty secret, except the whole world knew our secrets.
If you came back into flesh, I wouldn't return to you. I'd stay where I was, because you are the epitome of a life I left behind. Leaving isn't hard, it never was for me--except when it came to you. I always stayed too long with you. But I've left you and that life behind, it's just you can't seem to let go.
You have to let go of me, gemstone. Jules, you can't keep holding on. I've given up on trying to force you away, I'm not going to try and kill your memory. I already killed you once--and don't try to tell me different. It was my fault, I know it was, but guess what I can't change anything. I shouldn't have let you in that car, but I did and I have paid and am paying the consequences. Knowing you, of course, you'd be sure to tell me it was my fault. Not to be malicious (even though you were definitely cruel at times, I learned my cruelty from you), but simply because you were always honest...except when you weren't.
I talk in circles when I talk about you. Paradoxes, paradoxes. They call me a paradox now. I guess I was your protege, and I learned quite well.
J, I understand I will never not love you. I loved you with more than I thought I could, that doesn't just go away. But I don't need you anymore. I needed you then, but I don't now. You know, maybe I never needed you after all. I just need you to let go, because I have.
I let go quite a while ago. It's time for you to do the same.
I don't mind the memories, I don't mind the phantom-pain. I don't even mind the nightmare dreams every once in a while. But you can't try to control my life again, because I'm not going to let you walk over me this time. I don't belong to you, J. Not anymore.
It's time for you to let go.
