Restless Things

Love Lost

You saved my life once. I must have let you. What a silly mistake fabricated by a whimsical girl. Outrageous, actually. And you have no idea. It's almost a crime how oblivious you can be.

I suppose it was always going to come to this: my bringing it up. I probably shouldn't mention it, being dead as it is. But here we are. Maybe it's a habit of mine. Maybe I'm just disappointed. What a let down, a damn regret. But that's how these things go, isn't it?

That's the nasty little trick about love. Or infatuation. It's not like the movies, or books, it's just different. And sometimes I think it's forced. Or maybe just dressed up, to be more like those movies and books. But the truth is, it's dirty, and it's messy, and it's a goddamn train wreck. That's part of its beauty; if you survive.

But this isn't really about love. This is about us. Two opposite forces pulled in opposing directions and exploding on impact. That's how it felt. It was slow at first. I didn't even realize we were colliding until suddenly I couldn't tell me from you and you from me and that's what we became.

Maybe I was oblivious then, on purpose I admit. I'm not the kind of girl to waste her fancy on love. But it didn't take too long, did it? A year maybe.

You were different. You chose to be blind, or you can't help it. I don't care anymore. You simply pushed things your own way and dragged me down with you. I don't want that anymore. I want something more. No, not love. More. Life.

I would give anything to run water down my skin and watch your black ink wash away. I wish I could scrub at my hands to feel them cleaned of you. I wish I could strip my clothes, pulling you off of me one fabric at a time. I imagine letting down my hair and feeling your weight climb off of me. If only you hadn't settled so deep in my flesh, what a wicked disease you are. You've worked your way into every vein. You've swarmed every cavity, claimed every memory. I am drowning in the sea of you.

I just want to be able to say goodbye. I want to be able to walk away. And if I could, I would. But circumstances aren't that kind. That's the other thing about love, sometimes it's just circumstances. We were sudden and slow and blind and reckless. And maybe that's not fair. We were never really fair.

So this is me being fair, to you and to me. Love is far too stationary for me. And that's my curse.

Sometimes, in clandestine moments of weakness, I think this is killing me. I'm dying. But then I remember you, or I feel you dismiss me, trivialize me, minimize me- and suddenly I am revived with the very thought of breaking away. I'm consumed with life at the whim of leaving. My salvation is your damnation and I damn you. I'm seeking my liberation so desperately I am defined by its yearning. That's what I have become. This is what you've made me. Or, rather, what I've always been.

How long must I wait for my freedom, have I not served my time? How much must I sacrifice to you, have you not taken enough? My life? My heart? My love? Have you not taken all I have? I have nothing left, but to pull myself out of your depth and to walk free. I have only to claw myself out of your abyss and claim my liberation.

So this is my goodbye letter. There are no hard feelings, that's what they say. But, I can't honestly say there are any feelings at all anymore. They keep getting trampled away. So, here we are. We're both guilty, although you will never admit it. We are both at fault. We built it and together we destroyed it. It was a group effort, so thank you for helping.

I know if you read this you wouldn't understand most of it. Not from lack of literal comprehension, but from lack of emotional comprehension. You were never good at understanding things. Human things. Understanding is too fluid. And I can't help but to feel as though I've expressed all of this too much before. As though each time these words tumble from my lips they are not enough. Because they are ineffective. Because you could never understand. What a waste it's been. All of this time spent on you.

I don't owe you my life anymore, you are not my heart. You are not my soul. You are not me. With all of those other things eating away your time, you hadn't any room left for me. Love was lost on you. And so was I. I was utterly, entirely, absolutely lost in you. I loved it too much, too fast, and it killed me. It killed my light.

And that's okay. Because I'll be okay. And so will you.