it was afternoon.
the house was quiet – the light dim from an overcast day.
i just texted the words i can’t for what seemed like the thousandth time.
he wrote back with venom.
tearing and cutting me in a way that only he could.
it was ugly.
it was heart breaking.
it was final.
the years leading up to those last moments…the ending of a story.
the closing of something so fragmented left me feeling a little hollow.
he led me on.
for. years.
and i used him for the same amount of time.
we were so incredibly toxic when the last period was placed.
it didn’t start out that way though.
it was once beautiful.
hard – challenging – frustrating – but beautiful none-the-less.
we shouldn’t have had to work that hard, but we did.
because i loved him.
because i don’t think he could let me go.
when we first ended – i told him i needed space.
i was miserable.
i thought he was it, the one, and now i was wounded.
drowning.
and he was fine.
years unfolded – he reached out, i reached out, we twisted together again.
in this ugly knotted mess.
suffocating the good in all of it.
and leaving each other more hollow than the first time.
it was an ugly cycle.
my gosh it was ugly.
i can’t count the number of times i tried to set it straight.
and yet…it never was.
until the end.
when i finally grew a spine and shut the book for good.
and man did that hurt.
i felt for years that he failed me.
and he did…he really did do me wrong.
but if i really break down the cycle, the relationship, the disgusting mess it became.
i wronged myself.
i failed myself.
i didn’t love myself the way i should.
i didn’t recognize my value.
i forgot who i was.
and i don’t ever want to do it again.
when that lie enters…that you’re not good enough and never will be lie…
…it’s hard to not listen.
to not believe it and buy in.
most days i struggle to break free of the lie.
some days i remain in chains.
but at least i’m fighting.
this was written 11/1/15
it should have been written well over a year earlier – but i held it in.
the words flew out of me in a fury – a rush – a cathartic whirlwind of release from being bottled up for so many years.
i’m a believer of stories – of the power within our lives to reach out to others and hold their hand.
to remind each other that we are not alone, we are not abandoned, and we are most certainly not without hope.
the fragmented years i spoke of above – sharpened me into the woman i am today – the woman i am still becoming.
and even though it was painful – so wretchedly painful at times – i am thankful.
it has allowed me to see the joy in even the smallest of moments and to relish within the huge moments.
i debated even publishing this – since this relationship has long since ended and i have moved far, far beyond it – but it’s a part of my story, and it bears sharing.
psstt..i got this prompt from hello neverland – she is amazing.
