Heartbeats fading

I lay brokenhearted in the night for years, crying tears that were such a waste. So much effort, so much energy lost, trying to recover what I just gave away. But you know something? I'd do it all again, just to feel your heartbeat again as you lie next to me. To feel your skin on mine, the touch of your lips. The way you made my heart beat faster just by looking at me a certain way. I miss all of that. I miss you.

But now it's time to put you away. It's been weeks since I looked at pictures of you, stroking your face in my mind, and wishing against everything that I hadn't been such a fool. But it's time to forgive myself for things I can no longer change. You are not mine. You never will be again. I can be grateful for the time that we did have together. There will be days when I will still ache for you. Especially now that I'm determined to go it alone. But now I'm strong enough to remind myself that it's no longer my right to hold you, to have you close.

You will no longer be the standard I measure every man against. Your smile in my mind will blur and let me see others clearly once more. Those heartbeats of yours that I was convinced beat in time with mine? They will fade from my ears, never to be heard again. The warmth of your skin, the strength-under-silk feel of your body, will no longer be impressed upon my skin.

One day, when I've found my own strength again; when I've got back all of myself that I let myself lose when you left me, then I'll find love again. And this time, I'll grab it with both hands, and I'll hold it close. And I'll treat it the way I should. Thanks to you. :)

Losing the hurt

It's been a while, and I still miss you. I've tried talking myself out of it, unsuccessfully, and just given in.

The good news is you're no longer a sharp pain in my heart. When someone mentions you, I no longer store it away to examine later, to treasure it and cry over it in private.

You're still a huge part of my life, whether I'm being guarded or not, something will always creep up that reminds me of you. But when I whisper your name now, it's a charm. A reminder of something beautiful that will always be kept safe inside me. The bitterness is gone, the hurt has drained away.

But I'll always miss you. And wish you were here, with me.

Cynicism

The more I see of you, the more cynical I get.

You were my first love, the man who came before all other men. The one I loved unconditionally and totally, and the one who let me down the hardest. Every time I think you've changed a little, it just turns out you're just using us again.

I guess you do love us in your own way, but I hate how you see us as resources, to be thought of only when you need something, and to be put on the shelf when not required. That's not family.

Sigh. It's funny how I was relatively well-adjusted until you brought my world-view crashing down.

Now I'm just another girl with daddy issues. Sad.

Two-Step

Step forward, step back, forward, then back.

They taught me how to dance... and then I learnt to dance with you, and forgot everything else. This is not how it's supposed to be.

I should have known better. I'm old enough and smart enough, but I've never been detached enough. Never drag someone else into a life that's too messed up to hold its own. No one new can fix what you yourself can't, not if it involves your heart.

If I'd met you earlier, or later... But 'what if's don't matter anyway.

And it's the same cycle, over and over, like a beginner's waltz where no one knows any steps but the three.

I want to let you go. I do. I swear I do. You're happier now, from what I hear, and there are people who will love me and need me just as I am. But I need you.

I call you sometimes, just to hear your voice. I text you, hoping against hope that you will respond, if only to say you never want to hear from me again, because I crave that connection. I never thought I'd sink so low, not for anyone. But I have, and I can't talk myself out of it. I don't understand. Is it because I wronged you? Is it because you left, and not me? Am I losing touch with reality from hoping so much? I don't know how to let you go, and so, everyday, I play back pictures of us, all ending with you walking away. I've told you I wouldn't try to talk to you anymore. I don't know how I will, but I'll try. Forgive me if I fail sometimes. It's only because I miss you and I love you in a way I'll never understand. Which is why I'm trying to let you go, even though I fail. I wish you'd talk to me, tell me again that there's nothing here. Hopefully if I heard it enough, it'd sink in. But maybe you know me better than I know myself, and it'll never be enough. Maybe it's just not worth the effort for you. The thought hurts, so why won't it cure me? This has gone on too long.

To the other one. The one who saved me, against all odds. I thought that gratitude would be enough. That I could give you my life without all of my heart. How stupid could I be? And why did you let me? I used your love for me. I may not have known it, but how can that make it better? I love you too, but not enough. How can that make sense? And after what I've been through, how can I expect you to go through it too?

I'm sorry for the mess that is my life. A month ago, I'd have given up, I'd have said I couldn't take it anymore, and I'd have tried to kill myself. Today, I have to go on. I'm not sure whether that's strength, or stupidity.

I live... still

I am depressed.

There I said it. Not that saying it seems to solve anything. It never has. The first step to solving a problem is admitting you have it? Phooey. Sometimes it seems to me it's an excuse, but it's not. I'm sure I can fight it though.

I lost everything - my dignity, sanity and even the moderate amounts of intelligence I gave myself credit for. And the thing about hitting bottom is that sometimes by the time you reach, you've already drowned. Or you feel too tired to push yourself up again, and drowning seems like the easier option. Morbid, cowardly and selfish? Perhaps. And yet what gives anyone the right to judge another's path?

I never used to understand the concept of giving someone else the power to end your life, and yet I've given someone the power to save mine. The person I begged and pleaded and wished for wouldn't deign to try, and yet someone saw the shell that was left and considered it beautiful and worth preserving. Life's funny, isn't it? So why isn't gratitude enough? Why can't I let go of old longings? Why must I still reach out to the person who helped put me here?

But can I really blame anyone else? I am responsible for my own life aren't I? It's what I always believed. So why now, when I need it the most, has this belief deserted me, along with the faith I had in myself, in my dreams, in life and in others?

I still haven't figured out how to pick myself up and I'm sort of floundering on the bottom, but I guess I should give myself points for being able to get this out, because a day ago, I couldn't have. Progress in any direction is still progress, right?

Live, Love, Lose

Standing at yet another edge of sanity, looking back, I'm wondering whether the choice to jump off was worth it. But what was there left to do? Latent hatred, roiling anger,and the desire to no longer be here, do this leaves me speechless. I wonder why you, and why you had the impact on me that you did. In picking up the pieces, I keep finding bits missing. It wasn't your fault, the wrong time, wrong place, wrong person mess of it all. Maybe it was mine, and I am sorry. But I've said I'm sorry so many times. And what good would it do even if we were to be friends again? What could I do with a friendship like yours now?

I have everything I need, and yet memories of you claw at me. I hide them out of sight, where no one can see, where no one will ever know but me, and pull them out to flail myself with when I'm in need of no further pain. Someday, maybe I will let myself free, in the meantime, the penance goes on. Maybe that's why I need your friendship, so I can let that go. But what use is it asking you? I've been nothing to you for so long now that it wouldn't matter if I asked.

My most recent ex-love, the most tumultuous of them all, I dream of you still. Different from the others in ways I can't begin to define. Do you ever let go of something like that, or does it seep into the flaws of your being, coating them over, giving them a different shape?

I've lost so much, and yet I've gained so much. Here's to the future.

The Way Things Are

I haven't been able to write. I've been blocked, completely. Nothing at all, not little snatches of poetry, not my thoughts or feelings. They've all been stuck inside me for a while now. And I find that scary. Because I've always been able to write. It's the one thing that could set me free, give me the release I couldn't find from talking to other people. Having that outlet cut off made me feel lost, like part of me was dammed. I don't feel like I have it back yet, but I'm clawing my way there.

Things have been happening lately that I didn't think would ever happen, and I don't know how I feel about them. And they all happen at once, or in a sequence that knocks me off balance and keeps me on my knees. Every time I think I've fought my way back to some semblance of equilibrium, something else comes at me and leaves me reeling. I've always wondered if it's my fault, and the way things are, I'm going back to believing it. I know I shouldn't. Things just.. happen.

It hurt when dad left. I cried myself to sleep and it makes me feel so - weak. I don't think I ever really had a hard shell, but at least I had the illusion of one. But I'll accept that, 'cause he's my father.

And then yesterday, I cried again. It's strange, this feeling of loss. I thought I'd get used to it. Maybe I will. But I don't want to, so why should I have to get used to it. Aren't we supposed to save the things that are important to us? But how do you know at which point it goes from saving something valuable to clinging in vain to something irredeemable?