Three years…three fucking years, yet it still feels like she was ripped out of my life yesterday. A piercing, tattoo, and a few hundred more scars, and I still feel the same. College was supposed to be an escape and in a small way it was; I found amazing friends, who've also faced tragedy, who were more than willing to check on me when I was alone and provide the support I needed. Hell, I even had a roommate who could basically read my body actions and knew when I needed to talk or just cry my eyes out. But what I've yet to find is peace of mind…
Coming home was the hardest; I missed it, but being bombarded with memories and getting glimpses of her around town kills me. She looks sad, lost and angry; yet, I can't do anything to cheer her up for risk of losing more of my life. People can say all they want that it's time to move on, and that you should focus on yourself and your own happiness. I agree with them to a point; however, I'm loyal to a fault. Now you may laugh at this considering that I let a girl fuck me twice, but it wasn't out of love, like, or even lust. I just needed to find something to fill the emptiness I felt. That isn't the way to go about it though, and no woman has graced my bed since that day nearly one year ago. It eats at you, you need to know the love of another and you can get aroused by other woman, but the second something physical starts, you get sick to your stomach and just feel really wrong. Have you ever loved anyone that much in your life?
I have…and I still have two more years till I'm reunited with my Emily. Will it end well? I have no clue. People say she's changed and not necessarily for the better, but I don't care. If you were forced to go through half of what she has, you'd change too. I've changed also, and who knows, maybe she'll hate me for what I've become. All I can do is hope that she understands my position and all that I did was just to find an escape. Distracting myself during hours of light are easy enough, do a little yard work, paint, read etc., then comes the darkness and I'm plagued by nightmares. Getting told night after night that your nothing, vile, and not worth the love you once received so freely… It wears on you, crushing any little surges of confidence you get and pushing you backwards after working so hard towards recovery.
Bypassing my natural need for human contact, something I've found extremely difficult for someone so cuddly, I've relied on other means of comfort. Meditation, novels, painting, writing, and delving into my Wiccan studies; I've tried it all and none of it masters the darkness. So like many college students, I'm trying new things to comfort myself. After all my school work is done, I fall to the two things in life that give me some sort of false peacefulness. I can fade into an alternate consciousness, numbing me of any pain and letting me sleep in a way mimicking death. No thoughts plague my mind, I just sleep. Don't hate me for my choices; the liquor warms my belly, like the arms of mi amor warmed my soul and the smoke in my lungs transports my mind, like the kisses of mi amor transported me to an alternate plain of reality. Who knew that things claimed to be harmful could almost copy the euphoria of love?
She'll most likely be disappointed in my choices, but I'm sure she's done or will do things to cope that I wouldn't like. It's how life works when you hit rock bottom and have lost most of your high ideals about what's proper. Life is hard and one has to do what they can to survive; whether that's through alcohol, or through other distractions. I don't condone my actions, but things happen and all you can do is roll with it. This is what life has taught. I can't give up and let myself be driven into the ground. Fight for what you want, and who you love. I take it one day at a time and slowly trudge through the seconds until I'll see my love again.