It hurt so much it felt like all the air was vacuumed out of my lungs.
The slightest movement a struggle.
Tears poured like hurricane as my eyes lost vision during the drive home.
What a foreign concept when love slowly eludes us.
“Home is where the heart is” they said.
So, where is home now?
My stomach had a nervous pit.
My hands shaking with anxiety.
Head spinning with fear that it was all one-sided.
All at once, it hit me.
It was one-sided.
She’ll never love me the way I loved her. I never once walked out on her, but it was so easy for her to pack up her things and walk away.
My breath of fresh air had been contaminated with her greed for the allure of others. She wanted more, and that honest truth left me feeling worthless. I couldn’t give her what she wanted because she’ll always be chasing butterflies where the grass is greener.
I was trying to explain to her what she could not grasp.
I wasn’t unhappy in my relationship by any means, maybe just stuck in a conundrum.
“It’s like there’s a bottle and a cap, and no matter how I try to screw on the cap, it doesn’t seem to fit perfectly –
It still functions as a bottle in that the cap screws on and nothing will spill out nor would anything fall in. The bottle still works, but some part of it will always not feel right.”
That was the best way for me to explain my conundrum.
He leaves a thorn in my sides as each passing day goes by that we are together.
Toxic relationships grow and grow. The thorns prick my skin one by one; day by day until there’s no surface left to puncture me. He’s taken all of me.
So when the time finally comes, and I’ve mustered enough bravery to leave and let it all go, it takes one day at a time to pluck out each thorn he’s left in me.
The recovery is painful, they say. The recovery is hard.
And as each day I pull with might, I feel the twinge of throbbing memories being yanked out. The petals glisten and cheer.
The buds start to say, it’s one step closer to leaving it behind. Thorns no longer impaling my emptiness but piling up on the ground where I left the rest of that darkness.
Learned what unconditional love was when I found myself in the same detrimental state. Constantly making up bullshit excuses for your actions because I thought you were it. My person.
The love of my freaking life.
I started making up pro and cons trying to prove you out weighed anything else that mattered.
Fall leaves gathered and laughed at my blinded sunshine, reminding me that though seasons change, people don’t.
6am is my favorite time of the day. The world actually comes to a halt. Flurries of emails haven’t stormed my phone. Streets haven’t been stacked with cars armed for swerving battles. The day is open and quiet. My mind has a small snippet of tranquility.
The timer on my coffee machine sets off and gorgeous brewing amber races for my mug. The scent fogs my living room while the sun barely peeks out yawning and stretching its sunshine through the clouds.
My keyboard readies itself to create symphonies. The flickering line in an open doc waiting for today’s rhythm to start. I lightly place my fingers above and start to type; spilling feelings, rage, characters with unimaginable valor, and pasts with wounded scars.
My mind is clear and hopeful that for the next 24 hours maybe just maybe… my life and the stories I create have a chance of something new, something great, and something memorable.
6am is my favorite time of day.
who wants to b reasonable.
don’t think about tomorrow.
I don’t want to b good.
I want to chase the never-ending wind, sleep in the sands and let the waves take me in. I want to drink until the landscape is a blur, run while raindrops kiss my cheeks, and forget there is a tomorrow.
Yesterday, we said “I love you” for the first time.
Today, we went our separate ways.
Nothing about real love is as magical as the movies.