Sometimes I just sit there and feel my chest tighten up and feel like I can’t breathe anymore, like i’m completely gasping for air. The feeling like I have to hyper-ventilate. Tears streaming down my face. Like someone is reaching into my chest and ripping out my insides.
Today I let go of someone I was really into. Someone for the first time in awhile showed me that there are good people out there. I couldn’t do it. Regardless of the fact he was handsome, smart, and motivated. As nice as he was, I couldn’t love him like I loved before. I couldn’t will myself to be touched or touch them. I felt empty, like I was filling them with empty promises and hope of something more. Someone who gave me the idea that moving on was possible, but no i’m stuck on him. The man who holds my heart in the palm of his hands and little by little has left me empty.
For moments it would feel wonderful being able to just talk to someone, to remember what it felt like to laugh. That it was possible to look at someone again and feel wonder, but I couldn’t do it. I could see it in his eyes and I just wasn’t there emotionally, mentally, or physically. But I can’t rely on someone else to be or act as my happiness. I need to be able to stand on my own feet and make my own path. I need to work on being me, being able to stand the silence that was left behind when you walked away, being able to work through my own thoughts, and finding what makes me happy. Because to be truly happy means that happiness come from within yourself, to know what it is that make you sparkle, that makes you laugh, and that powers you. I need to put in the time to work on that for me and I can only do that alone in a sense. Because to put your happiness in the hands of someone else misguides your thinking. I also set myself up for being broken down because I forgot what it was like to put myself first or question what makes me happy.
I let them go because it was wrong to give them hope. That someone so broken could offer them everything they wanted or were searching for. That no matter how much reassurance they gave me and that it was okay to hold back, I couldn’t accept that. I couldn’t make someone else wait on me when I felt no passion for them. Weeks went by and as much as they encouraged me to open up, be supportive, and understanding, I couldn’t do it.
I came across this piece of writing on Tumblr yesterday and it made me feel so hard. Wishing that someone else wouldn’t have to go through this, but that it’s life and we are meant to fall on our faces and pick ourselves back up.
And when that day comes, I’ll sit down next to her and tell her about when I was 16
I’ll tell her about the boy with prettiest blue eyes and most intoxicating laugh
I’ll tell her about the way he spent years making me fall in love with him-effortlessly
I’ll tell her how hard I fell
because oh my lord I fell hard
I’ll tell her about losing him
About sitting on my bedroom floor, rocking back and forth with anxiety
About the dark under eye circles and the marks on my wrists
About growing accustomed to my body being in a constant state of self-destruction
I’ll tell her about the shitty poetry and the new hairstyle
I’ll tell her about the envy I felt when I saw my replacement
I’ll tell her about slowly regaining the ability breathe normally
I’ll tell her about being able to laugh without feeling like I’m betraying him
I’ll tell her about being able to order the spiciest thing on the menu without crying
I’ll tell her that it never goes away that it only subsides
I’ll tell her that my heart still stops when someone says his name
I’ll tell her that to that very future second, I still love him
I still think about the prettiest blue eyes and most intoxicating laugh