Friday, September 27, 2013

where i am, where you are

earlier tonight, i began to pen pain's letter. instead, it became truth's missive. perhaps, it's both.

i don't miss you. i miss the idea of you. i miss the good parts of you. the kind, brilliant words that soothed & encouraged me. the soft touch that held me for what i'd hoped would be an eternity. the face, with the eyes & smile that reached that which others could not, the inmost depths of my heart.

for a while there, i felt like you'd saved me. i don't exactly know what that means, but at least i had someone to love. but i don't miss you. not the whole you, anyway. i cry because the good is gone, & there's nothing, no one. not yet.

you've torn me in half. you've thrown me back into a familiar pit, one with no bottom but replete with an endless supply of spinning, slicing razors. i've been there so often that i almost accept how much it hurts, as if that's how life is anyway, as if it doesn't matter anymore. i'm used to this.

damn you. i'd say that you have no idea how much pain i'm in, but i know that such words would be far from the truth. i'm not lashing out, beating the air in hopes of returning the hurt i've been dealt, but there is a reality from which you desperately flee: you've thrown yourself deeper into the throat of a swallowing void. when confronted, you deny it. however, you've forgotten--you trusted me. you let your defenses down. & you told me everything. i know you better than you want me to. you're lonely, & you're in a far worse place than i am.

this oblivion is one of your own creation. you're hurting, & you have the power to get out, but you refuse. you're scared. you're afraid of what you'll have to face if you reach for light. you know exactly what it'll take to save yourself, but the price is steep, & you face a poverty of courage. you're terrified that if you decide to pay up, you'll no longer be you.

sometimes, though, that's not a bad thing. the you of now is but a poisonous illusion, infiltrating the whole of your soul with paralyzing fear. with every inch it gains, it tries to destroy the real you, the best of the good heart that i know you have. releasing your fierce grip on that mindless, rapacious phantasm may be the only thing that can save your life. for this truth, you should trust me; shedding such skin is the only reason i'm still alive. i am proof, embodied.

please. live.

No comments:

Post a Comment