I never knew it could hurt so badly and so long to lose you. Had I known, would I have done our life differently? Maybe. I don’t know. How can one answer that question? There’s no go backs. There’s no second chance that I know of.
Tonight, I have cried so hard my lips swelled, my throat hurts, my eyes can’t focus on this screen. I have sobbed for nine months. Wept, wailed, hated myself, cared for myself, evaded with alcohol and cigarettes, dealt in therapy, given into prescriptions to numb me in a socially acceptable way, called out to you in silence, begged you from across the table, prayed, cursed. Still, I am lost. Still, I miss you every day. Still, I wonder what became of your heart.
How did our souls get ripped apart in the blink of an eye?
I washed the last shirt that smelled like you yesterday. Nine months later. Pathetic, huh? It stayed up in my closet. Why you left that one and not the one my dad gave me is beyond me. I have them both back now, but the other one I washed immediately because it smelled of some cheap cologne you tried to wear. Something you donned for some other woman, no doubt. I don’t care about her. She was your numb.
I am so incredibly lonely. I play the part of good mama, recovering sister, sweet daughter, attentive friend, compassionate ex. Inside, I am wishing for the end. I am wishing to understand the lesson that was you. I am wishing for the sun to shine and me to feel its warmth again. Or not.
Sometimes, I just wish you never happened.
But there are no second chances that I know of. I am stuck with the knowledge that I have loved and lost. No one else has taken me to this place for so long. No one has taken me to heaven and hell in such a short amount of time. No one has given me so much, just to rip it from me.
I am lost. Even my physical body is a slight reflection of its former self. The curves are gone. New pants; now twice in three months. I don’t know what I am doing here, on this planet. I am unsure of my purpose or the lessons I am to learn. I am wandering aimlessly, robotically.
Numb, except some nights. The nights I wonder where your heart went.
Where did always go? I can’t believe you lied. If I believe you lied, then I believe that I fell for your lies, that our life was lie. And to believe that would be worse than the hell I am feeling now. But not to believe that means that you just stopped loving me. And to believe that means that I was unworthy of love. What’s worse?