Alright, so a quick writers note before I dive into this – For me this is an exercise in externalizing some very real and rather raw emotions. It is not a cry for help or meant to inspire any action on your part as a reader. If it makes you feel a small piece of my life that is really good, go share that with somebody and we can make a wave of emotion. If not thanks for stopping by. This is my soapbox on my virtual street corner and I’ll use it as necessary.
To the woman I miss,
Not talking to you hurts. Not talking to you really honestly hurts. My life is an open book professionally and personally but there are parts of me that only you saw. Not having someone to share those parts of myself with is grating away at me. I try and tell myself what we have done is the right thing, that it needed to be done – that it was smart. Nothing I say to myself convinces me. The best I hope for is to be so swept up in the immediacy of some task or anther to blissfully forget you, just for a moment.
I rationalise, I obfuscate and I tell myself that this too shall pass. I listen to those around me that are close to me, those that love me; but I have never felt more distant from them. Not because I don’t think they care or that they aren’t being supportive but because none of them know what you were to me for all that time. None of them know how much your smile helped me through all the tough times I’ve faced or how you’d make me smile genuinely on a daily basis.
It is cruel that we had to part – cruel and wildly unfair. It is cruel you should still be so very close to me, even in the distance we have created. So close that I can sense your presence but not see you, nor hear the warmth in your voice or see you pout.
The thing that hurts the most is; I worry about you. You’re kind and gentle and sensitive and I don’t know that anyone is there to help you through this pain. I don’t know if there is anyone who you can cry with or scream at or talk to. I sit and howl the injustice of this fate to my family and friends and all those who I trust – and I worry that you suffer worse, silently crying when all I want to do is embrace you and tell you how I can fix it.
I feel stupid and arrogant for letting you so far into me. For giving a piece of myself to you that I could never and would never get back. The hole in me where that piece used to be aches. The low dull ache makes it impossible to move on, impossible to forget you or put you out of my mind.
I feel sorry for all the other people who tried to get close while I was fighting my feelings for you. I feel selfish and ignorant and ashamed for all the hurt I caused by not being a big enough man to own the way I felt for you and make the call sooner. It makes me wonder if this feeling will ever subside, will ever recede to the point where I can be normal or happy again.
I don’t know if you’re feeling this pain. It scares me that you might be fine. It scares me that that thought makes me a monster.
I miss you. I love words, I love the way I could share myself with you through words. Find new ways of expressing ideas and concepts that thrilled you an brought you more fully into my world. And now I miss you in ways that I don’t have the words to describe – I don’t have the courage to use my words to make that feeling of emptiness ‘real’.
I miss you – and I honestly don’t know how to make that stop.