sounds a little like freedom to me // Thursday, July 10, 2014
the mere mention of your name still makes me flinch subconsciously, sometimes out of fear, mostly out of guilt. as if your name is bound by some kind of spell that'll make you appear magically, right in front of me. but i push the thought away right as it pops up, because i'm afraid it'll somehow come true. because i still don't know what i'd do if i were to see you alive, in the flesh. mostly i'd think you'd ask why, why i did it, why i left. why i broke all the promises we made. i think you still don't understand why i did it, even though i've explained, but i hope you know now that it was (and still is) for the best.
for a while it was hard.
not because i regretted it, or because i missed you, but because i thought i ruined you.
it was hard because the peace that lies with waking up to white ceilings and golden sun rays only lasted about four seconds before i was reminded that someone else out there—you, wouldn't be able to gain the same kind of peace because of me. i ruined it for you—me.
i had ruined your mornings and afternoons and nights, and some nights i would stay up and wonder how many days of yours i would continue ruining. i know it sounds so self-conscious of me, almost conceited, considering that, hey i kinda broke your heart and left you hanging without you really understanding why, so really, why would you still be thinking of someone like me, right? (i had thought about that too, and laughed dryly to myself, because yes, even if i hadn't thought of that, i am still so very self-conscious and conceited.) but that's not what bothered me. what bothered me was the string of why why why's from you that i'd never hear, and never be able to answer. i'd never be able to justify myself from whatever you were thinking of me, the bad or the good (though i doubt you have any thoughts of me in the latter department). what bothered me was the confusion that you'd gone through because of me, and i was so scared that i'd left you so broken and so hollow and just so hung over me, so much that it kept me awake at night thinking about it. it'd haunted me. i never wanted to put anyone through that kind of emotional damage.
i had beaten myself over it.
i was so sorry i couldn't even beg for forgiveness, only say i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry until it became incomprehensible to even my own ears, and even then it had felt like it wasn't enough. a million sorry's wouldn't be enough, it'd never be enough.
i didn't think i could be any more sorry than i already was, and at one point i wanted to apologize to everyone linked to the two of us. your friends that were soon my friends because of you, my friends that had become yours somewhere along the way—i wanted to apologize to them all. i had given each and every single one of them a piece of me and i wanted to apologize because i was forced to take them back—every single piece—shred all the memories, bottle them up and throw them out to sea. i had felt bad because i was still friends with them, when i was absolutely nothing with you, and to be fair i had almost cut all ties with them too. almost.
the guilt was unbearable. it had bordered on my shoulders like dead weight, pushing me down. at some point it felt like drowning—as cliche as it sounds—but not quite. because i could feel myself simmering just above the surface, still alive, lungs still greedily sucking in air. but even then, more than ever, i could feel the remnants of you dragging me to the bottom.
and i hated it so much because it was torture, the thought of me being the source of someone else's pain was pure torture. i hated you so much because i thought you ruined me, thought i had ruined myself because of you, but more than anything, thought i had ruined you.
silly as it sounds, in the end, they were all just thoughts. because now, seven agonizing months later, i've learned that you are doing fine without me. i had worried myself silly thinking you were a fragile little flower i had plucked and crushed and left by the road. and i am kind of sorry that, even after all we've been through, i didn't (and still don't) know you enough to know that you'd pick yourself up and grow a garden in my absence, one that would bloom more beautifully than it ever could in my presence.
and i'm sorry for all the things i did, all the promises i broke, all the hurt i caused. but this will be the last time i ever say it—or type it, whatever—because i am done running myself over with truck tires, thank you very much. maybe one day you'll find it in your heart to forgive me. (i hope you do.) maybe you already have. (i'm not pushing my luck.)
i've learned that thoughts are a dangerous thing, and love, even more. and maybe i still flinch when someone mentions your name, but one day i won't.
i sincerely hope that when you come across the number 26 in an equation, or stop by the grocery store to buy kinder bueno, or pay a visit to the zoo and see penguins, you will no longer think of me. (maybe you don't anymore, and i'm clinging to that tiny string of hope.)
this is it. goodbye.
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