Today, I saw you and skirted around the phrase “I love you.”
I went everywhere but right up to it. You hovered at the edge like a fixed statue as I went round and round, knowing it was coming. Dreading its coming. And, just as I was careening right to it, you stopped the movement with a tip of your head and a resistant smile.
I steadied. Caught in your eyes, your body language, the disappointed rumble of your voice saying, “You don’t want this.” You traced a tattooed hand across your faded grey shirt, pulling the words across you like a shield.
“Yes, I do. That’s the crazy part is I do,” I pleaded.
“You can’t,” you shook your head.
I scoffed, “Too bad. It’s not up to me. It’s not up to you. It just is.”
You stepped forward and wrapped me in a hug. For the first time in months, I was comforted by a familiar smell. You stayed long, breaking as you had initiated. I let go, though I wanted to dig my fingers into the grooves of your shoulder blades like the lip of a cliff I was about to slip from.
“I don’t know why,” I said, wiping away tears. The warmth of your neck lingered on my nose. The subtle change of your cologne made my heart thump. I wanted to press my lips to your jawline and remind you what it was like to be loved by me. “It doesn’t make any sense, but I can’t untangle myself from you.”
You looked down at your feet.
“I’m trying,” I said, wishing your eyes would meet mine. I was trying, but You possess an energy that I crave, something I understand better than I understand myself. It’s soothing. Intoxicating. Familiar.
“It makes me sad to see you sad,” you said. A sentiment you’ve uttered more times than I can count. A sentiment like waking up in lukewarm bathwater. A lonely feeling. Truthful, but removed.
“I want you to be happy,” you continued. “You deserve to be happy.” A knife to the gut. “You’re the best person I know.” Naked body dragged over glass. “You’re amazing.” A sticky sob congealed in my throat. My tongue ached, holding back the inhuman sound of grief I could feel bubbling in my chest. It was unbearable knowing you could exist so effortlessly without me.
“I’m trying,” I said, smaller and weaker than before. I wanted you to want me back. I wanted you to apologize for breaking my heart. I wanted you to sink as much as I was. I wanted you to say, “I love you.”
Skirting. Testing. Watching your every move. You crossed your hands behind your back. A move I loved and thought of more than I’d care to admit. For a moment, the apartment, our old apartment filled with silence.
“I’m sorry,” you said.
Tears threatened to break over, so I buried them with anger. It was the only way to survive this conversation. Cautiously, I brought my gaze to yours. There they were, those eyes, waiting for mine. Looking into them, I felt the same way I’ve felt about you for five years. It hasn’t waned. It hasn’t changed or transferred to someone new. It barely leaves me alone. Deep down, I know I would go back to you instantly. I’d leave the warmth of someone else’s bed and drive straight to you. Damned to know I love you and that I am powerless to extract it.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever stop feeling like this,” I said. “I think this might just be how it is for me.”
“You don’t deserve that.”
“I can’t seem to get out of it. I don’t know how.”
“I’m happier alone.” You couldn’t look at me as you said this. “No responsibility is good for me,”
I know that, but I’m not. “I know,” I said. “I know. I just wish it was different. You’re the only person that makes sense to me and the only person that doesn’t make me feel like an outsider. I was wholly myself with you and happy to be. You made me feel normal… and safe.”
I searched your face, saw the same look I’ve always mistaken for love, and realized that it was just how you looked at people. It wasn’t special or meant for me.
It didn’t mean anything.
You’re natural inclinations delicious to me. Precious to me. But not for me. I crave every bit of you, but you don’t crave me. You loved me but resisted it, and I’m the one hurting. I’m the one who was called crazy and got strung along while you made up your mind. You broke my heart slowly over months instead of all at once. The decent thing to do would have been to kill me with one fatal blow.
You grew up believing love is too much trouble, and you flee from it like others flee from loneliness. You have hurt those who love you on your quest for an easy life. You have built walls around yourself, leaving us helplessly trying to reach you. Deep down, you don’t think you deserve love and prefer to be left alone.
You’re black granite dripping in gold. Hard-lined and liquid-hearted. Unavailable. Untouchable. I looked for a way in for years, only to be told I was not a priority. Blamed for my heartbreak because I should have known better than to love someone like you. Dismissed and rejected. During my lonely years with you, I slid through sorrow on an empty stomach, waiting for you to save me, but you never came. You weren’t even looking.
Outside, I froze in disbelief. The one person I was comfortable with turned away from me. The only person who knew me abandoned me. I didn’t know how to gather all the pieces you tossed out on the steps. Without you, I didn’t know how they fit together. Without you, there was no picture.
Still, I stooped, picked them up, fragment by fragment, and slipped them into my pocket. Small stones suited to be held by steady hands. My body quaked on my drive home. Everything came in slowly-fast. There and not there. Transported but dragging.
It’s not until later, as I’m watching tortellini boil on the stove that the full grief of your absence hits me. I live in a new place. I’m alone and unwanted. My best friend is gone. I am cast into a life I didn’t seek. I sink onto the kitchen floor and sob into my bowl of pasta. Finally, letting the pain envelop me. You didn’t disappear. You became part of my atmosphere. Every breath: I love you. I love you. I love you. Every beat: stop. Stop. Stop.
By Omnipotent
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