Goodbye

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I tried my hardest not to cry when you opened your mouth. The only things that ever came out were long, dramatic kisses or words that slowly infected me until I felt like I had died.  I listened to you for a moment and turned my head, ...

I tried my hardest not to cry when you opened your mouth. The only things that ever came out were long, dramatic kisses or words that slowly infected me until I felt like I had died.  I listened to you for a moment and turned my head, I couldn’t stand to hear you say it again. “I love you.” You whispered it as if you were afraid, or worse, like you didn’t mean it. Your left hand was outstretched, reaching for mine, but I did not reciprocate.  I heard you. I listened to every last inch of letter that fell from your tongue, every word your mouth formed dripped from your lips and I cannot explain in any amount of detail you could comprehend how very loudly, how very clearly I heard you. I’m not sure if I did believe you, or if I just wanted to. The way you “were”, was so very different from what I was listening to you say. Time stopped and your hand remained still, stiff and open right in front of me. I looked at you, for a moment, forgetting how I felt. I was trying to see you for who you really were, my naked eyes scoured you for any sign of misinterpretation I could find. Forget how you look, I thought. It wasn’t about that. It didn’t matter. Who were you trying to be for me? That was the ugliest thing about you. You were supposed to be you, but you clung to me, making it impossible to let go. I had my own foundation and I wanted you to have yours, but you snuggled between the corners of mine and called it your own. It was unbecoming, the way you talked about people who were hurting, how you couldn’t empathize with them. You were cold. Why was I surprised when you treated me the same? I saw how you treated your friends, how you spoke of your family, the ways in which you used people. For a moment, time stopped, and I saw you for who you really were. After that, it never really mattered that I loved you at all. I don’t think it was a conscious choice you made, but you were immune to love. You wanted nothing to do with it but cried every time I walked away. I wanted more for myself and it seems you didn’t care at all, you were okay with mediocre. When time stopped, as did my willingness to dive in head first with you. Something about my lapse in judgment made me nauseous and all I could think about was how angry I was at myself. Here I was, staring at you, listening to you repeatedly saying my name like I was zoned out. In fact, I hadn’t zoned out at all, I was completely tuned in to everything I couldn’t see before. I saw you, love, I really saw you. I brushed your hand out of my way and started crying. I picked my bloodied heart up off of the floor and brushed it off. The lump in my throat evaporated and I wet my lips as to enunciate everything so you understood completely. “I loved you until five minutes ago. I gave you myself when I had nothing to give anyone else. I ran away from people, I hid and I cried because of you. You embarrassed me, I was afraid to tell people what I was willingly putting myself through, and for what? For this? For you? Not anymore. I love you, but in a way that I am supposed to let you go. It was never that I wasn’t good enough, that I wasn’t strong or steady or unwavering. It was you. You purposely locked me out. Sometimes, when one door opens, it was never our door anyway.” I walked away disheartened but relieved. I felt strong as my tears fell. My heart thumped beneath my jacket and I realized I was putting one foot in front of the other as I walked home in the dark. That’s all I could do really, I just had to love myself first.

Alexandra L. Narron

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