When you came into my life I had my guards up in front of me, but I was open to experience something that made my heart jump. I was confident that I would get love right this time. I was positive that our story was going to be one that was told across the world, one that was going encourage people, to give them direction and inspire them. Timeless. I believed in you, in us. I put faith in you your intentions when you approached me, and told me all the captivating words I wanted to hear. I trusted your unspoken words when you stared in my eyes or reached for my hand. I understood your smile, and relished in the way you lost your breath every time we kissed.I counted on my scent perking your head up, indicating I was nearby, long before I was even in the room and I was certain you meant it when you said I was the best thing to ever happen to you.
But then you started staying out super late and not coming home. Your behavior became erratic and I didn’t understand why. You locked yourself in my bathroom for hours while I slept alone upstairs. You were always late and had some extravagant excuse. The people around us began asking me about you and I just told them you were stressed from work. Then work called and asked why you never showed. You began questioning everything I did and where I was. Our deep conversations turned into arguments which led to screaming matches. I got frightened that you were changing your mind about being with me. You came up with any excuses to call it quits.
You lied when I asked if you were using again. Even when the evidence was clear as day, I wanted to believe that your sobriety was still the most important thing. I still remember the sound your glass pipe made when it shattered on my kitchen floor. I was heartbroken and left disoriented. You ran out of my apartment without telling me the truth that I deserved to hear. At that moment I was confused about all the kisses, late night confessions, weekend cuddles, the incredible sex, hand holdings, and heavy laughter that we shared. I doubted whether every word that you had said to me was genuine. I wondered if what we had was real. I asked myself “When I was high on love, was he just high?”
I thought we were in a relationship with just each other. I never acknowledge this third party impeding on everything we were working towards. I thought we had the same expectations and goals. Until you made me realize that I was wrong. Suddenly you and I weren’t in a relationship anymore. Drugs became your new lover and I was in no shape to compete with her lure of intoxicating danger. And like a jealous ex-girlfriend, I began clinging to your every move. Declaring my love to you. Confessing how I would die if you weren’t in my life. Promising to do everything you asked of me, just to be near you. Oblivious that your confessions to Meth were one in the same.
We were clinging to some “almost” relationship…a connection we knew was there but couldn’t put together. “Almost” implied we could be something great, but never would, never did. “Almost” changed me. I learned that people can change their mind last minute, or all of a sudden. I learned that people are willing to throw away everything and run away when they get scared. I learned that you can hear all the best words, but know that they can also be taken back by someone who said them. I don’t want to even say it out loud, but I think you chose the easy way out. And I don’t know that I will ever forgive you for that.
Love can sometimes be complicated, messy, faulty, frustrating, and heart-wrenching and I’m trying to learn to accept that imperfect side of it. To realize I can’t control people’s emotions and decisions. I’m trying to see that the best way to move on is to understand the reason behind your actions. I have to accept that heartache is a very real part of the risk that comes along with loving someone. I know that you can’t stop people from leaving you, but you can stop yourself from holding on to them.
I’m not letting you go, I’m setting you free. Love can be painful sometimes, but I will always choose to love, regardless of how many scars I get from it.