Sian Green

Alone is something I’m used to, but today it feels more of a burden than I’m used to. What once was a settled weight I carried on my back like one would carry their hiking bag across the mountain, became the world resting on my shoulders that’s crushing my spine and bending the pins I use to hold myself together. I saw you today, I couldn’t speak with my smile anymore; I saw her essence all over you, and it crippled me once again. You know that.

The most painful adverb I’ve come across in my short life is, ‘almost.’ That word has been branded into my shattered heart; not with a hot iron, that would be too easy. It was branded onto my heart with Liquid Nitrogen, and I will forever feel that burn, even when I heal. Complicated is how I would describe our connection, but Friends with Benefits is the easiest way to describe what it was. What made it so complicated was my attitude towards it; I let you do things to me no one should in that situation, and it should’ve ended months ago.

I understand I messed up. I understand it’s my fault. I don’t blame him. Never fall in love with someone you’re in a Friends with Benefits situation with.

I will defend my pain, for it is valid; I wouldn’t expect anyone to understand, you’re not me. You don’t know what my inner demons tell me in the middle of the night, the pieces of my heart I’m still looking for in order to repair myself for the next heartbreak, for I fear that is all I will face. It was the longest, most personal connection I’ve ever had with anyone, despite it not being a relationship; so easily it was lost because someone better came along. I ended things too late, and it still burdens me.

I’m disgracefully heartbroken over someone who never wanted all of what I had to offer, and even though most of what I am is someone who is riddled with anxieties, scars, imperfections, and unhealthy amounts of anger, I wish he could’ve stuck around to see if I could achieve something better than myself; it isn’t much, but it would’ve been nice to have someone there to keep me sane.

If I was able to let him go, I would have a long time ago; I have never felt so claustrophobic from his presence, a small place lets you make sure you never go a day without seeing him. On the rare days where I don’t see him, I smell his smell in the air, and I wonder if I’m going crazy. He’s a high that won’t let me come down all the way, as if I was bouncing on a bungy rope over the rapid that could take me away from the pain.

Now I just feel lonelier than I ever have before. I feel completely vulnerable, worthless, but most of all, I feel lost.