There Goes My Mind Again

Staring at my phone. That’s all I can do now. Took a shower but it just made me cry again. What is this world I’m in? This pain I’m living with? I’m a sucker for you and I’m sure that’s not enough. And I’m not winning. I’ve lost my hope. My head spinning out of control. And if this where you leave me then I’ll shut off and never start again. This feels like goodbye. For the last time.

I found the mini golf score card from one of our first year dates. We stopped dating. Stopped trying. And here I am remember what it was like when we were good. I pulled away. I recognize that. Once the honeymooner excited washed away…. Guess I’m throwing it away.

58,160 messages. Our entire relationship deleted in one swipe. 3,922 calls. All those times I heard your voice gone. Erased you from my phone hoping it would keep me from reaching out. You want to move on. What the fuck right do I have to keep you here. I guess life goes on. I haven’t checked my photo reel. Afraid of seeing your face appear next to me. It’s fine. Maybe in another lifetime yeah?

I reached out after spending hours crying. Trying to get passed the feeling. Feel it and move on. Feel it and let it go. Feel it and do something else. Sit with it, Occupy, distract, shower, show… It seems I’m not as in control as I anticipated I’d be. My will power is leaking and the weakness is exposing itself. You were the person I’d let in. The person who knows me. My person. The one I talk to when I’m upset. I stopped doing that. I stopped letting you in. I let you go. I have just emptiness left. You kept reminding me “I told you to reach out if you needed to talk”. That crushed me. You are always so devotedly there for me. And I crushed it. I broke you. I lost you. I hurt you. I can’t forgive myself for that. Not again. It’s a selfish idea that I’d allow myself the comfort of your voice again. The comfort of knowing you will always be there. It’s fucked up. And I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve that kind of love from you.

My mom won’t stop texting me about the fucking house. My brain think “oh shit it’s him” every time. Even though I’ve had that reaction at least 4 times in the past 20 minutes. I’m crying so hard I’m laughing. It’s fucking priceless.

My whole drive home what I thought was your car was in front of mine. Until I realized I had to pass it because they were going so slow down the left side. In my mind I knew it wasn’t but my body reacted because I wanted to believe I’d see you. It was that tight chest panic feeling. Heart beating in my ears. It wasn’t you. Just some old woman. You were probably already home. And I never realized how dangerous it was to drive and cry at the same time. But I made it somehow. Pulling into the parking lot my heart asked what if he is waiting for you? What if you see him? What if he decided to just show up? But my brain knew. That’s not how this works. Even though it still went through every scenario. Just because I couldn’t stop it. You weren’t there. You aren’t here. And those what ifs are just that. Now I’m on the couch. Didn’t make it far into the house. I had to sit because my body is heavy. Crying tears I held in all day. Finally able to sob. It’s too quiet at home anyway. Might as well let it all out. My body needs your hugs. It needs to believe this isn’t real. That my brain couldn’t possible do this. I almost stopped for wine… you said not to. So I listened. And I’ll sit here in this feeling. Alone.

I spent last night showering and taking care of myself. I listen to binaural beats and wore my collagen mask to bed. We fought about that once. My mask. I’d been over stimulated all day from work and was having trouble connecting. I was feeling guilty for being so busy that day. I sat on the other side of the couch. Barely reciprocated your kisses. Bracing for the inevitable “you could have texted me more”. It wasn’t intentional. It wasn’t because I didn’t love you. And when I went to try my new face mask your mom bought me, to wear all night. You took it as a sign of avoiding you. And maybe I was in a subconscious way. It made you feel unwanted and unloved. Not the mask itself but the idea that it would eliminate our ability to be intimate, to cuddle at bedtime. I didn’t even really think about it. I was just excited. I was taking care of myself and thought it would help relax me. But then I felt guilty. It slammed into my chest. Shame for not thinking more of how you felt and just assuming you were feeling some sort of way about my busy day. I got use to the bracing. The constant overthinking. The way you thought I wasn’t enough. Didn’t want to talk to you enough. It got to the point that even when I wanted to talk to you there was so much pain between us that it seemed like a box to check. And you would stay quiet or your voice would sound sad. And I was trying, I was reaching out. It just got to a point neither of us were there for each other. We were just trying to keep our own wounds at the surface.

I’ve been looking at pictures of us… all the pictures we’ve sent each other over the years. Facebook messages, Instagram reels. I found the recording you took right before my surgery and I got to hear your voice. That was nice. We were so happy together. And then the past year tore us apart. Today was a bit easier.. I’m still battling with my own mistake. I’ll forgive myself for my own heartbreak eventually though right?

Your socks are a fucking curse. I swear one of your socks is in every corner of my room. The punch line never ends. But my boobs look really good in this workout dress. So that’s cool. I wonder if you miss my body best. What a shitty thought. I’ve had a lot of those today.

I’m grieving what I wished we could be.

Every time I walk outside I imagine you standing by your car waiting. It’s that shitty thing my brain does to me. The what if. The how would I react… what would I say. You were the only person in my life that actually hugged me. And damn I miss that. Fuck fuck fuck. I just want to be okay with my own damn decisions at some point. My life is being packed into boxes. I’m still building the box for you. I found another one of your fucking shirts. And god dammit. It just fucking hurts right now.