I did this to myself. I know that.
But how do I live like this? Wondering where he is, or with whom? Asking myself if all of things he said to me were lies; a convenient way to sneak out without being the bad guy, to explore what might have been with her. I shouldn't hate her. There's no reason to. In fact, deep down, I hope that she makes a good life for herself...that is, as long as it isn't with Dane. I couldn't bear that; to be a footnote in someone else's love story. To be reduced to filler, when there were moments, so many moments that felt like what we were building could stand forever, like an obelisk. A monument to what it means to love unconditionally.
If that's what I am, the years in-between, then there's nothing for me to say. All I can do is be happy for them and find my way alone, or with someone else.
There's a part of me that knows this is irrational. That, in the same way no one can replace him, there's no one who can replace me. Still, the pain of not knowing, of missing out, of being left to wonder and knowing that I'm the one who asked for this silence, at times it's unbearable. It's all I can do not to pick up the phone. Not to send an email. Post some stupid, morose something on facebook hoping that a mutual friend will pass it on to him.
When I'm with Mack, it's different, quieter. All of those thoughts, I can see how silly they are and how I should just live my life to the best of my ability. Trust that I am strong and talented and smart and beautiful and stubborn enough to find my own way. Be my own person. Love and be loved as I am. And there's even a chance that this is all the way it was supposed to be. A detour or, more accurately, a lesson to prepare me for this, for Mack.
Even though Dane and I seemed, on our good days, so effortless, there were too many holes, too much mistrust, too much pain for us to ever truly last. Dane, stripped of all his humor and talent, is a victim of his disease. He can't love me through it because it's all he can see. He won't let me love him through it because he doesn't want me to see.
Mack, with all of his baggage, still manages to see through his own anguish. He plays the sad clown with the knowledge and hope that it won't always be that way. He looks me in the eye, tells me his story, wants to know mine; wants to trust me the way I want to trust him. It's the way I fall back, held in the perfect, simple knowledge that his hands will be there to catch me. It's the way he knows that when reality is crashing down around his ears, my heart will be there to catch him.
But how do I live like this? Wondering where he is, or with whom? Asking myself if all of things he said to me were lies; a convenient way to sneak out without being the bad guy, to explore what might have been with her. I shouldn't hate her. There's no reason to. In fact, deep down, I hope that she makes a good life for herself...that is, as long as it isn't with Dane. I couldn't bear that; to be a footnote in someone else's love story. To be reduced to filler, when there were moments, so many moments that felt like what we were building could stand forever, like an obelisk. A monument to what it means to love unconditionally.
If that's what I am, the years in-between, then there's nothing for me to say. All I can do is be happy for them and find my way alone, or with someone else.
There's a part of me that knows this is irrational. That, in the same way no one can replace him, there's no one who can replace me. Still, the pain of not knowing, of missing out, of being left to wonder and knowing that I'm the one who asked for this silence, at times it's unbearable. It's all I can do not to pick up the phone. Not to send an email. Post some stupid, morose something on facebook hoping that a mutual friend will pass it on to him.
When I'm with Mack, it's different, quieter. All of those thoughts, I can see how silly they are and how I should just live my life to the best of my ability. Trust that I am strong and talented and smart and beautiful and stubborn enough to find my own way. Be my own person. Love and be loved as I am. And there's even a chance that this is all the way it was supposed to be. A detour or, more accurately, a lesson to prepare me for this, for Mack.
Even though Dane and I seemed, on our good days, so effortless, there were too many holes, too much mistrust, too much pain for us to ever truly last. Dane, stripped of all his humor and talent, is a victim of his disease. He can't love me through it because it's all he can see. He won't let me love him through it because he doesn't want me to see.
Mack, with all of his baggage, still manages to see through his own anguish. He plays the sad clown with the knowledge and hope that it won't always be that way. He looks me in the eye, tells me his story, wants to know mine; wants to trust me the way I want to trust him. It's the way I fall back, held in the perfect, simple knowledge that his hands will be there to catch me. It's the way he knows that when reality is crashing down around his ears, my heart will be there to catch him.
