Flames

three

It's funny how one moment you can have it all together, feel powerful and happy, then a moment later, it's all gone.

I just felt weak and not worthy of his love.

My mind kept telling me that I didn't deserve someone as amazing as Louis was.

I didn't deserve anything when I couldn't even control my alcoholic father.

I didn't deserve being loved when I was too much of a coward to confront him about his drinking.

I didn't deserve to be happy when I couldn't tell someone about my problems so I could be helped.

I didn't want to be helped.

I didn't deserve it.

I was a weak, pathetic girl, and Louis deserved better.

For years I had blamed myself for being the reason my mother left, but after Louis came into my life, those feelings dispersed into thin air.

I felt like I was important, like I was worthy of being happy.

But that defining moment when it all came back to me that I wasn't worthy of it, was that moment when my father slapped me.

I don't know exactly why that was a triggering moment, but it instantly reminded me of how twisted and unstable I am. How unstable my whole life is.

I couldn't do that to Louis.

I had just helped him deal with his demons, keeping him from committing the worst thing he could possibly do to me.

I helped him deal with depression.

I helped him stay alive.

But being with him meant bringing my own problems to his life as well, and as much as I helped him not be depressed, he had other problems to deal with.

I didn't want to be one of them.

I wanted Louis to be happy; I wanted for him to live a long, happy life where he felt that he could accomplish anything that he desired, because I knew if he put his mind to it, he could do it.

And as much as I tried and tried to be happy for him, be happy with him, there was a constant reminder in the back of my head about how much of a dead weight I was to him.

Don't get me wrong; I still loved him. My whole being wanted nothing but to be in his presence; to have him wrap his long arms around my torso and pull me close to his body so I could smell that fresh minty smell that always lingered around him.

But I had to sacrifice heartbreak in order to let him breathe.

I had to sacrifice my love so he could be happy.

It took me a month to be able to gather enough courage to break his heart and to completely shatter mine.

I tried to make it the best month of our lives, giving him my full attention and letting him know how much I loved him with every being of my soul and body.

I was the happiest I had ever been.

But I still cried every night. I still couldn't find a way to be okay on who I was.

Then, the worst day of my life happened.

It had been a month and a week of faking a smile and pretending that I was happy with everything in my life.

But then I had enough, and I practically dragged myself out of bed that day after that time, cursing everything and anything that crossed my way.

Of course my father was passed out in his room, snoring away the amount of alcohol he consumed the night before.