The Hardest Part
There is no doubt that I, at 27, love you. I love you more than anything I have ever known, more than any real thing that has moved me in this world. There are times when you touch me and I feel myself melt beneath the warmth of your hands. This is love in the first degree. And yet, this love, our love, is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
I’ve lived my life believing that I could do anything. For the most part, that is a truth that holds solid. I went to college, went to grad school, found a job, ect. I did all the things I needed to, moved forward at the speed of light, and never looked back. Unless, of course, I was looking back at you. Our love has always been complicated; I suspect that for us, complicated is central to our existence. I had hoped, though, that nearly ten years later, we’d left some of the more difficult parts of our love back in 2009. The startling, uncomfortable truth of that is that I had and you had not.
Time has helped me, though. In fact, the days and weeks have been more like a much need crutch for me, helping to close up wounds you inflicted. I say this as someone who is approaching his last leg of healing, you were not that great of a lover to me. Not in the beginning, at least. The worse part about it was that through every boy, every dirty text, every dm, every ex, I never turned and left. I was the loyal dog in this, I see that now.
I see it all now. It all makes sense. The parts that didn’t, the parts perplexed my mind, that left me heavy and my pillow wet, make sense and have been healed one way or another. All but one.
Your three words – your “I” felt emphasized though it was a text. I live with it every day, it bounces around inside me. Sometimes it even pulls at me in the middle of the night. It crawls on my skin and it hides in waiting for me on my best days. It is sad, it is scary, it is a truth that I no longer want. All I really want is you.
~M
