Ache

It was the worst time for us to meet.

You had a lot of things going on, and so did I.

It’s been almost 2 years and I’m still trying to get over it.

What the fuck.

At first it was the smell of your laundry – people just seemed to use the same detergent everywhere in the city. Everyone smelled like you. I became afraid to go to the areas you used to take me to for food. I had associated that smell with you, and those places with you.

Every time I see you online something tugs at my heart. I honestly hate it so much.

And none of this would matter to you.

I am alone and pathetic.

I remember being frustrated at you for my own securities, and you’d shut yourself off from me with yours. You wouldn’t talk to me; you wouldn’t let me in.

You kept me physically close, but I never got to understand. I felt so distant from you.

I was like your mother, your friend, your lover and therapist all at the same time, but I had never felt less empowered or sure.

I kept defending you to everyone, and kept making excuses for the way you were. I just wanted you to explain but you never would. Now, you never will.

I still remember the last time we slept together, how I made you cry with my letter, and how that made me ache.

I still ache, but you’re all okay now.

You still get migraines, you wrote somewhere. And you still get panic attacks, you told me. I just wish that I could help you somehow, though you don’t want or need my help.

I remember the time when I came to see you after we hadn’t seen each other for a few days. You hugged me and said that you’d missed me. I sat on the landing and you laid your head on my lap; we remained that way for a while as I gently pat your head.

//

I always get this feeling that people are shamed for not being able to let go, but that’s unfair isn’t it? It’s not like they don’t want to move on, they simply aren’t able to do so. We shouldn’t be shamed for how we feel, ever, especially when it isn’t ill-intended.

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