It’s funny…nothing feels the same. Some things are tinged with sadness. There is music I cannot listen to, anymore. Places that I drive past, that make my heart fall to my stomach, like I’ve just gone over a hill on a rollercoaster. There are days of the week that feel hollow, no matter what I’m doing. Dinner feels unsatisfying. Kissing my children goodnight feels half-assed. I find myself watching television and looking over to an empty space, feeling that emptiness more than usual.
Other things are singed with anger. I congratulate acquaintances on their engagements and anniversaries with a bitter taste in my mouth. I see you smile, and I want to knock your teeth out. I think about my struggles, and my children’s. I think about the thirteen years of promises and lies, thirteen years of bullshit. I want to rip my hair out. I want to rip your tongue out.
I realized that I could not have changed your mind. I realized that what was, for me, was not, for you. You made it, for me. Made sure I believed it. I realized that I was lied to for over a decade. That the truth in my heart was not, in fact, truth. I realized that this story is one that only I know, and only I will ever know. Which essentially means that it did not exist. My life, my reality, my world, for thirteen years, does not exist. It made me insane.
I spent a year, struggling to find the will to live.
No, that is a lie.
I spent a year with no will to live. I kept myself going each day, with the promise of it ending with finality. There was a date. There was a plan.
Life After You.
So I kept waking up.
And one morning, I woke up and actually opened my eyes. I woke up, and actually looked at myself in the mirror. I woke up, and stayed awake all day.
I noticed that I could still find peace in the smiles of my children.
I noticed that I could still excel at my job.
I noticed that I didn’t have to feel alive, to live.
I have accepted that I could not have changed your mind. I have accepted that my truth for over a decade was not, in fact, truth. I have accepted that I was a number, and that you are a monster.
I will never “get over” you. I will never trust in love again, as you have made me distrust my own heart. I will never trust in happiness again, as you have made me distrust my own soul.
Thirteen years ago, I gave you my heart. Nine years ago, I gave you my body. Two years later, I gave you my soul. The scar on your shoulder was intended to be your promise of your soul, to me. It now serves as a reminder of how deep your lies can cut, and their permanence.
You gave me so many more scars, than the one we shared that day. Some will serve as a visual reminder. Others leave their mark on my soul.
There is no “getting over” that. I gave myself to you, willingly. I never lied to you, when I made those promises. They will not break – even if I beg for those tethers to snap. But I will stay awake.
I will continue. I will be as productive as I can be – and I will accept that some days, I will not be able to be productive at all. I will smile with my children – and I will accept that some nights will end in crying myself to sleep because I held in the pain for them. I will excel where I can, and push through where I can’t. I will keep pushing that date back. I will continue, dragging this weight with me as long as it takes. I will carry it. I will carry on.
Life Over You.
Leave a comment
No comments yet.
WTF, mates? 
bitch!