He's Everything
"You're here, and you don't
know why. . .He's everything you want,
he's everything you need, he's everything inside you that you wish you could
be, he says all the right things at exactly the right time, but he means
nothing to you and you don't know why. There's always something more that you
wish he would say." -Vertical Horizaon
I'm so angry at myself for needing to be saved. Again. Isn't that
what got me in this mess? I needed to be saved and someone rose to the
occasion.
I can't really be mad that it happened. It had to happen. I felt
like all the stars and planets had aligned so they were pointing down on him
and me. And it felt right
And I wondered why I didn't love him. I was curious why, why on
earth, this sweet boy who saved me again and again and told me he loved me,
didn't get my heart.
Maybe I was tired of being the strong one. Maybe I was tired of
fear and pain and unknowns. He took them all away, without ever asking for
something in return
Maybe he didn't ask because he wanted my pain and fear and
unknowns. He wanted the weak part of me.
Is it possible he knew I didn't love him, and took away my weak side?
Now he's gone, and my strength is humming against my ears and I
want so desperately to cry out, to need, to be weak. I know that I was his
weakness, he couldn't think when I was around. But he was my streangth.
And that part of him still lives in me. I'm strong. I thought
that was a gift, but I know better now; it was a curse. I refuse to break. He
has my weakness.
There is a hole in me. And that's him. I miss him.
I hate myself for needing to be saved, now from myself. That
was what got me in trouble. But last
time it wasn't my fault. I could blame those bastards who got me in the mess, I
could blame circumstances and fate. Now, there's no one to blame but myself.
And I wonder if he knew all along. I wonder if he understood
that if he had such a big part of me, I had to be with him to be whole. Could
he have predicted the future? Did he know me that well? Maybe. It wouldn't
surprise me. He was always studying me, watching me, looking into my soul.
Part of me knows that it's better now, with him gone, with me
moving on. It's good that everyday my
heart doesn't ache as much. And it's good that I only dream about him
sometimes. And maybe, a little bit at a time, I'm getting myself back. That's
I'm forgetting to think of him. But I know he thinks of me always. I see him
everywhere. At my house, at my work, wherever I go. He's there, looking at me
with those big, haunted eyes. I thought they were sexy at first. I would kiss
him with my eyes open, hoping to glance at those eyes. Now, the pain that
shines through them; can anyone else see it? Or just me, because I know him-
no, knew him- so well? I hate those eyes now. I hate all of him for
making me remember, for stealing me from myself. And for making me believe he
was giving to me, when really he was just taking.
If it's good, why does it hurt? Why can't I revel in the pain?
Why can't I be weak?
He didn't see that he took away my good qualities when he took
away the bad. He didn't see I needed all my bad qualities to be who I once was,
who he fell in love with.
So, I'm sitting outside looking up at the stars, writing in my
journal, and I wonder if he's staring at me. I can feel his eyes on me always,
it's not nice like it was many months ago, now it's pain. And I'm crying on the
inside, I'm crying blood because tears refuse to fall. I hate it when that
happens. My whole body becomes sore from holding back tears.
I cry more than I used to. I cry when I'm not even sad, just to
prove to myself that I can. And I wonder how I'm going to be me again, how I'm
going to reclaim the things I never knew I had.
I wonder if he knew.
