This year taught me that my loneliness has more to do with myself than anyone else. The loneliest I will ever be is when I do not have the strength to love myself.
Somehow it’s was more terrifying to even contemplate losing her, because at that point in our lives I hadn’t exactly lost her, but it felt close. Close like how late at night when she rolls over and takes half of your pillow and you can feel her breath-she’s that close- see her chest rise and fall, and it falls. To the floor like a blanket that she bought that you didn’t even need, that you didn’t want and, when you wake in the middle of the night and you need a glass of water, and she’s not there and as you rise you just let her blanket fall.
And you never bother to pick it, or anything, up. Emotions and fears and hates and love and newspaper articles and baggage and people all lay strewed about your life, as carelessly treated like a blanket you never wanted on the bed in the first place. Except, most of the mistreated things in your life don’t belong to you, do they? They belong to her. As it turns out most of the best things you have came from her: moments you can be unguarded, risks you would never take, the way you can feel strong because she is strong. You’ve hijacked the bests things about her, and didn’t look after them properly.
There is always a way to fix this, you hope. There is always a path back to her. You’ll find that because of your journey you will always leave a path back home. These lessons are important, because they will show you what your relationship can take. It’ll show you were strong, and where you weren’t. Because most things don’t break because of dramatic force. They break under gradual pressure, they break slowly. And you have to know that if you’re ever going to stop it.
the number of times i think “i don’t care” while people are talking to me is really getting out of hand