I had never been a woman who doubted myself until I met you. I had never been a woman who wasn’t sure what she was worth, what she brought to the table, until I met you. I had never been a woman afraid to speak her mind, afraid to live her life for fear of losing someone until I met you. I had never been a woman that settled for anything other than first place until I met you.
You singlehandedly brought out the worst sides of me, while making me feel that they were the best. You convinced me to share pieces of myself with you that I had never shared with another human being, let alone a man. You made me believe that within your arms I had a safe haven, a place to call home. You built a façade of safety, of belonging, of desire, of need.
When you disappeared you took my sense of self with you. My sense of me. My sense of who I was not only then, but who I had been and who I would become. You made me question the things that I had known were truths about myself. You took the individual pieces of me and made off with them into the night and even though I knew you were coming back, I still wasn’t prepared for your re-emergence.
In days, weeks, and months I sewed myself back together after you. Using shards of my old self, words from friends, love from family and a hint of alcohol induced confidence. In the time after you I became familiar with loneliness, with the feeling of deep and unrequited need for someone who had no time or love or desire for me. I became familiar with the smoke show that you had put on for me – and I realized that it was nothing but lies, a well constructed mirage of who you wanted to be.
Seeing your name on my phone screen re-opens the wound. Your mouth on mine relighting the inferno raging within me. Your body moving within me bringing me to life while simultaneously pushing my soul back into hiding. Your weight next to mine in bed moving all past memories into the present, twining your fingers through mine while your words fall on ears that both crave your voice and reject your stories.
You hope that the things I say are both true and not true, changing from moment to moment. The absolutes about you that I have woven into this new and shiny version of myself. The walls that I have built with you in mind. The scars on my soul that bare your name.
When my words hit you I see you shrinking back with impact. When my truths hit you they become uncomfortable, bringing your past actions back to the forefront. When my heart hits you it is apparent that you are not and will never be ready.
Our story bares the scars of war. Our love bares the marks of battle as I pull myself together and cross the field, walking without you into the sunset.
I have always been and will always be okay, without you.