This morning feels difficult. Mornings are always the hardest part for me, when I wake up in that state between the unconscious and conscious mind. When it hits me that you’re gone and that I have to leave. That we won’t be together. It feels bitter and sour, like biting into raw fruit, crawling up my tastebuds and leaving my tongue dry.
“I just miss you so much. I miss my old life. I love you so much, you have no idea.”
It hurts to let go, although I know I have to.
I feel a wave of fear run up my stomach and into my shoulders. I’m scared I won’t do well in life without you by my side. I fear not fitting in, although maybe that fear is just a vibe I’m putting out. Maybe I’ll gain some clarity while I’m traveling. In a few weeks time, I’ll be in Bali, on a solo adventure, on a journey to my heart. I feel an innate excitement when I think about Bali. But right now, under the covers and waking up to a rainy morning in Chicago, all I feel is a tinge of sadness. I just want you there with me. I just want to feel the comfort of your embrace, the one I know so well. I dream of being in your arms. I know I did last night.
I also know that I have to step forward. I have to let go of the past, let go of a person who I have memorized, the mirror in front of me for the last four years. I know the feeling of having to let go of someone, I’ve been down this road before. But every time I’m faced with the task, I feel like I’m drowning. I’m scared of what lies ahead. I’m scared of your presence not being there with me, steady and underlying like the beat of the ocean crashing into the rocks, day by day, week by week, year by year. I’m scared of not having the support that comes with knowing that, no matter what happens, you’ll be in my corner.
I wish this hadn’t happened. But I see now how necessary it was. I see how much attachment I brought into my interactions with you, why it hurts so much to dust myself off and walk away. When you lose the person you’re living for, you have to find a whole new reason to live again. I know that it isn’t healthy. I know that it was not healthy. But I didn’t care. The only thing that really mattered to me was you.
You’re miles away from me. Soon, I’ll be even farther. I’ll start to forget the feeling of your lips against mine, your hand touching the small of my back, the different intonations of your voice when you’re happy, upset, or tired.
The grief sits heavy in the morning when I think about how we would lay intertwined every night. I’d wake up to you pulling me closer, trapping my legs under the weight of your thighs, nuzzling into the tickly space in my neck, your hair brushing against my face. Drenched in our sweat from clinging to each other all night, regardless of the temperature. It was that kind of love; a fierce, furious endeavor where we melted into each other because that’s just how we preferred it to be. Coming back to regular life, a place I left for so long, feels awkward and unnatural. My profession at the moment involves talking to anyone and everyone. But I don’t want to share words with anyone but you.
You contact me here and there, sending me quotes and songs that describe how you feel. The last song you sent me asked if I’d be coming back for you. And a part of me wants nothing but to run back into your arms and forget this ever happened. That part of me tells me that you love me, that you made a simple mistake and that I can forget it all happened if I try hard enough.
But what can I say? The person that would have angrily run back to you, waving a finger at your mistakes and urging you not to fuck up again doesn’t exist anymore. She let out a big sigh, packed up her shit, smoked her last cigarette and walked out the door that morning. She gave up trying to find happiness in someone else after having everything ripped away from her at a time when she needed the most support. The time after that was spent scrambling, trying to pick up all the pieces and get to a stasis before it was too late.
It’s a hard lesson to learn, to really learn to love yourself before you love anyone else. It hurts to take stock of my life and realize that I wasn’t taking care of myself for years. It hurts to know that I gave up on myself. It hurts to look at my bank account, my network of friends, my job prospects, even my phone, and realize that at every turning point where I should have been cultivating abundance for myself, I turned my energy towards you.
Carefully, slowly, I’m discarding the things I let decay. Planting new seeds and climbing out of the mess. But it’s funny how, when you’re that deep in love, you don’t smell the rot. You just smell the scent of his skin at 4 a.m. and roll back into a deeper sleep.
I’m optimistic about my future and I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished so far. I’m grateful for those who appeared out of the woodwork to pick me up from where I had fallen. That’s all that I can do. Do the best I can, and hope for the best. It doesn’t pain me anymore to think about you messing around. It already happened. You already did. And I hope I can find the strength to live life a little sweeter, a little more carefree. Take care of the friends who have been there for me and make new friends to have new adventures with, and be the confident person I’ve always wanted to be. But the problem, I think, was that I found the person I wanted to be in you. And because of that, I stopped working to make myself better. Slowly but surely, I began to decay.
I want to be someone who lights up a room when I enter. Filled with stories and tales that make people laugh, be bubbly and infectious and hard to forget. I want my presence to be known, I don’t want to sit in the shadows anymore. But I won’t do that by living the life I had been living. I wasn’t living my life. I was living vicariously through you. I would like to sing and dance and let go of the things that hold me back from being my highest self, my true, beautiful self. The person you saw in me that I hid from the world. I want to let go of the bitterness, throw out the old resentment. Cast away the shyness and fear that kept me small. I want to stand tall on my own two feet and know that I can trust myself to handle anything that life throws my way, and do it with a smile on my face.
I request to the universe to help me become the person I want to be. Someone who shines like a beacon all by herself. I beg her a little bit.
“Please, universe. Show me the way.”
And then I get up and start my day.