To you.
Hey, it’s me again. I know we’ve now come to the part where I’m just a distant memory floating towards the rearmost portion of your brain but you live alive and well in my dreams, in my nightmares, and in my daily life. Your fire still burns your name on my lips. The smoke still chokes your song in my throat. You tried your best for the better part of a year until you were completely sewn into the fabric that makes up my life and became my everything. We finally started to become a we and an us instead of a you and I. I had done so much, worked so hard, grown where I needed to grow and did everything possible I could to make you smile, sometimes at the expense of myself and others but it really didn’t matter at the time. I just knew you were my storybook romance and I never wanted to run out of pages. We were dressed in potential but now we're draped in sorrow. In retrospect, there were more than a few times when I sat down with myself and I had to ask “Does she even love me?“ Does she want to be here?” “Am I wasting my time?” and I always reassured myself that it’ll all be worth it in the end cause no good relationship remains perfect start to finish, it’s the journey that is the rewarding part. Towards the end I put more pieces together, started asking you more questions which you slyly came up with answers for. I gently approached it the day you asked to come pick up all your clothes from my house, even though I hadn’t heard from you in about 4 days despite a lot of texts and calls. I asked you if this was it, if what we built was just crumbling beneath us and have you decided to abandon ship. I asked if when you came to pick up your clothes was this the last time I would ever see/hear from you again because aside from your car it was the last tie you still had to me. You laughed and assured me it wasn’t and everything was okay. That’s the worst part though, the laughter, the dismissal of me as a whole because you didn’t deem it worth it. I still calmed myself down and didn’t press on further and drove you home. On the way home you reached over and held my free hand just as we had done every time before on a car ride. It felt genuine and calming. I stroked your hand with my thumb as you squeezed tight. That was the last day I would hold your hand, the last day I would kiss you goodbye and tell you I loved, and the last day you were every mine and I was yours. It wasn’t so long after that I got a notice on Instagram that someone had tagged me in. In the late hours of the night I smirked and planned on going back to sleep. Instead a curiosity had sparked my interest., I had been off all forms of social media for upwards of a few weeks now, I wanted to see you so I went to your Instagram. What I found was weeks worth of praise, pictures, and all the ingredients needed to make my stomach turn. Despite every out I had given you, every time I questioned you, every time we talked about the subject, not once did you value me enough to give me the news. As it stands currently, it’s not the fact that you are gone, it never really has been. It’s not the who’s or the what’s or the why’s but simply it’s the how. How did you do it so easily? Knowing both of our pasts inside and out like we talked about over and over again, how could you do the things you did to me? How could you cast me aside without the care or courtesy of even an explanation? I could go over every single aspect of our relationship in my mind anymore, but how it ended still drives me mad. There isn't a single regret laying on my conscience, not one part of my self that remained untouched from improvement for us. I know what I was for you, this is an area where I get to brag because I was an amazing boyfriend in every single aspect. As you aptly named us at the start you truly were the barbie to my ken. Sifting through the glass and debris doesnt get me anywhere but I visit that day every single night in my bed. You truly don't understand what we had, I don't anticipate that at all, but I do hope someday that you do realize it. That you get lost in a similar mindset as mine in the wake of the absence of pure and honest love. I hope you revisit the corridors of our past and hear the echoes of our once happy voices. The same echoes that whisper into my ear from the ghosts in my walls every night. I hope memory by memory it all crashes onto you at once and you get lost in the same deluge that swept me away that day. Not out of bitter spite but rather that's the moment it all becomes real. When you accept your fate and finally have a drop of regret in your heart then I can take my peace knowing at some point we truly did live in that dollhouse hand in hand and with swelling live in our hearts beating only for each other.
To be continued…