You are the first person that has ever done this to me; the first person to twist my stomach into knots, to make me feel like I can’t exist without you. Your touch makes my knees go weak. My body aches for you. What I wouldn’t give to be next to you tonight. I want to fall asleep with your skin pressed into mine. I want to feel your heart beating and your breath on my neck. I want you to hold me in your strong arms, where I know I am safe; where nothing can touch me.
It’s usually around this time that I start to reflect on my day; I start to piece the bits and fragments of the time we shared together into memories that I treasure. It’s been getting harder and harder for me to write here. That’s because what we share together is too precious and perfect for me to capture accurately. My feelings are so hard to put into words. Even now, I’m racking my brain, trying to come up with a strong enough diction to paint a picture of what I feel for you. But I’ll try anyway…
I’m lying here on my bed and my brain is doing that thing again - that thing where it takes a memory of you and amplifies, magnifies, copies, and basically overloads my mind with nothing but you. Now my chest hurts and I have this overwhelming urge to cry because it’s times like these when I want you next to me so badly it physicallyhurts. I literally ache for you. And I wonder if you ever feel this way too. I wonder if you hurt like I do… I wonder if without me you feel like you can’t breathe. I wonder if without me you can’t sleep. I wonder if you have to fight to get me off your mind. Because I do.
I wonder if you’ve ever wanted to scream, “Come back!” because the sight of me walking away was too much to bear. I do…I want to run after you. I want you to hold me and never let go. I want to never leave your side because without you I can’t breathe, I can’t sleep, I can’t function. I can’t be without you.
I am so in love with you. Completely..utterly…totally infatuated with you. I need you so much…I love you so much more than you will ever know..Longing is a cruel thing. I have never felt anymore in love with you than when you are not around. The memory of your lips has never felt as good as when you’re not around for me to kiss. The memory of your embrace has never felt as warm as when I cannot experience it. I’ve never felt so lonely…
I write these letters to tell you how much I love you; to tell you how much you make my guts hurt. I write these letters to tell you that you’re everything that drives me mad and the only thing that is keeping me sane. I obsess over every sentence. I look up big, passionate words in the thesaurus and painstakingly reread every sentence after it’s written. Every word is weighted because it’s all for you. Once I’ve finished, I hesitate, and an internal argument ensues about whether or not I really want to post the letter. But I always do. This is the only way I know how to let you know just how much you mean to me.
Now I can’t stop trying to imagine life without you. And of course these thoughts make my heartbeat accelerate. My breathing gets quick and shallow, my stomach swims to my throat and I can’t stop shaking. I’m used to the anxiety attacks, but they’ve rarely been this extreme.
There’s a physical ache matched with an emotional counterpart when I imagine this. I feel as if something was stolen from me; something precious and irriplaceable. I told you my biggest fear is being left again. Now I’m terrified. I miss you when you’re not even gone. Then I start to think, maybe all this time I’ve been trying to hold onto something that was never mine to begin with. These thoughts can get depressing fairly quickly so I tell them to go away. They listen. (Most of the time anyway.)
I know it makes no sense to torture myself this way, especially because I don’t know what is or isn’t supposed to happen. Nor do I know what tomorrow and everyday after it is going to bring. I try not to stress myself out over things that haven’t happened yet, but it’s hard. Everything is that much more brutal especially since I realized just how fast you can go away. Especially since I realized that life just sucks without you.
I barely survived the first time with my heart and limbs intact. I’m not saying I’ll die without you but I damn sure would like to…In my heart and in my mind I’m still wrapped up to you. You’ve got my heart strings wound so tightly around your fingertips; my heart can’t so much as beat without me thinking about you. Your John Hancock is permanently engraved on my tear ducts.
This is what moving on feels like. It feels like peeling back my skin inch by inch; tearing it all off until the muscles and veins beneath are revealed. Once the skin is completely removed, I’m thrown into a bathtub full of alcohol and fitted with artificial skin, like in some twisted science fiction movie. Yeah. Like that.
Is is bad that I feel like I need you to tell me what to do? I feel like I need you to tell me where to go from here. Is it okay to move on? To let go? I feel like I need your permission; like a dog to it’s master.It’s revolting. Dependency is disgusting.
I made a promise to myself long before I met you, that I would never watch myself fall to pieces over something so meaningless as a woman One woman. I didn’t see the point in stressing myself out over something that could be so easily replaced. So why am I hurting myself over you? Why did I allow myself to break the one promise I swore I’d keep? Don’t fall in love. Sounds easy enough, right? And it was pretty easy. I had a policy with woman: don’t get attached. When she begins to occupy more space in your head than usual push her back. Always remember, you’re in control of her emotions not the other way around. But with you….I don’t know…it felt wrong to toy with you. And maybe a small part of me wanted to try having an actual relationship for a change. So I allowed you in, and honestly, after a while I had a panic attack and wanted to end us right then and there. I let my guard down with you, and believe me, that was no easy thing for me to do. I trusted you.
I wish I could get past you. I wish I could get you out of my head. Every time I get close to moving on you fabricate yourself inside my mind and almost guiltily, I return to my cubicle of suffering. Of course I have no one to blame for this but myself. You didn’t put yourself inside my head, and you most definitely aren’t forcing me to stay stagnant. But my God, you might as well be.
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