It's hard to breathe right now.

The sting of him leaving without an explanation has yet to dissipate, and I don't think it will for a while yet. I am still not quite sure how I feel about the whole thing, much less what I should do about it. The only thing that is clear to me is that I have lost something precious. I poured everything I have into a handwritten letter to him, one that I will hopefully be delivering in person tomorrow afternoon. I had initially planned to mail it, but tomorrow is my only day off for the next two weeks, and why wait?

It feels as though my heart has been ripped out, and I know I should be more angry at him for doing this to me but I simply cannot. It came out of nowhere, sure, but it's done and now I have to decide how to react. Since I have only large amounts of guesswork and small snippets of information to go on, I am left with no other choice than to do what feels right. My intuition about these sorts of things is terrible, nonexistent even, so I have to rely heavily on the opinions of others when making my decision.

I just want to wake up tomorrow to a message about how he made a mistake, and will I ever forgive him? I would say yes, absolutely, without question yes, and feel complete once more. But since I highly doubt that anything of that sort will happen, it is all up to me. I am scared, more scared than I will admit to anyone, that he will react badly, if he will even deign to talk to me at all. What if he looks out the peephole of his front door and tells me to go away, or simply ignores me? What if he sends his roommate to do his dirty work? What if he rips apart or destroys my letter in some other way without even reading it? What if he talks to me, and tells me there's another girl? What if he tells me that I have fucked up what we had beyond repair?

But what if he takes me back.

Slough

It occurred to me today that I'm so happy right now... I think the best part is that you have absolutely nothing to do with it. I don't need you anymore.

I'm Right.

You know this to be true, no matter what excuses you may make up to the contrary. Please don't do this to me. I don't deserve this, and most importantly, I don't know if there will be, can be, any more chances if you hurt me this time. I don't know if I will be able to trust you anymore. I gave you my heart this summer, believing with every fiber of my being that you would not hurt me again, and now this is what I get?

Know that I'm scared, too. I don't know quite to make of this mess. But also know that I'm willing to try, with you. I could do anything with you.

Meredith

I am always second best with you.

Choose me. Love me.

Whole

I love you.

Always, all ways.

I carry you in my heart.

I am so, so frustrated with you right now. The problem is that you don't know me well enough to know why, and that in itself is perhaps the most frustrating thing of all, because it proves that my frustration has a logical foundation. Let me explain:

Shortly after we met, I was crazy for you. You had me under your spell, and, like the stupid little girl that I was, I believed you when you said you felt the same way. I let you use me, and since then, it has been a continuing pattern. You tell me you love me and miss me only when you're not preoccupied with someone else. You tell me we should hang out then rarely follow though. It's just like that famous quote by an author I can't recall: I made you a priority when, to you, I was nothing more than an option. It's always been that way, and I am only just now beginning to see it. I hate myself for allowing you to use me so long and so well. I was blinded by my stupid, lying heart. Do I really love you? Did I ever? I can't be sure. It feels like this whole thing has been a game to you.

If I calm down and take a step back to assess, I know that I did love you, and that I love you still. But it doesn't feel real. I want it to feel real. I know we have a bond that is unconditional, a connection that runs deep. I want so badly to believe you when you tell me you love me. Please make it real. You will never run out of chances with me. I can't let you go.

-------------------------------

Two hours have passed, and I am still tearing myself to bits. You tell me you love me. You tell me you miss me. You seem more sincere now than you ever have, but I just can't let well enough alone, can I? I am insatiable, especially when it comes to you.

You said a few weeks ago that if you "had your shit together," you would ask me to leave him for you. I have gone back and forth with myself a million times about what I would say to such a proposition, and no matter how I reason it out, I know I would choose you. My head knows that he is probably the better, more solid option, but my heart will always choose you over everyone else. I do love you. I love you so much that it hurts. I love you so much that I over-analyze the shit out of every word that comes out your mouth. I can feign indifference for a while, but the facade always collapses in the end.

You would probably agree with me that he's the better choice. You would probably tell me he's better for me, and that you should have let me go a while ago. I want you to know with certainty, as I do, that you're wrong. I know this with every fiber of my being. I also know that you complete me, despite the fact that there are holes in our knowledge of each other. It doesn't matter in the big picture of things. We know each other more intimately, and I think that's what counts. The other stuff comes with time together, time that we have been seriously robbed of over the years due to various circumstances.

So yeah, I worry too damn much. I think too damn much. But it's only because I love you so. I hope you can understand, and forgive me for my ridiculousness today. I just can't help it.

Unconditional

"Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just what being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossoms had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two."

--St. Augustine

She Holds a Smile

There is nothing that scares me more than the idea of settling. You know what's crazy? Being with anyone but you feels like settling, feels like my worst nightmare. Things always go right in the beginning and I begin to think that maybe I can do it, but then after a few months the charade cracks, at first imperceptibly, and then faster and faster, until there is nothing left but my poor heart that desires nothing more than you, and I am alone once again. I "chew boys up and spit them out," as my parents like to joke, but it isn't purposeful. One day I will find someone who does not irritate me quite so much as the others, or at least someone I will be able to put up with for more than a few months.

I cannot let you go, and even if I knew it was best, I would not make any attempt to do so. You cast a spell on me early on, and I realize that your hold on me will never entirely dissipate. I will always be waiting for you. I will always be yours to some extent, even though I doubt you will ever really be mine. (Though I wish you could be.)

I'm sorry if I seem foolish or dramatic for writing about my feelings in this way. My aim in doing so is not to make you feel guilty or to change your mind or anything like that. I write because there is nothing else. There isn't anyone with whom I can have a real conversation about you anymore, not my friends, not my mom, and certainly not you yourself. I do not want to overwhelm you or worry you, if by chance you do read what I write these days. I write because I do not know what else to do with all these thoughts rushing from synapse to synapse.

Stagnant

I don't understand you. I'm trying desperately to hold it together and to let this wash over me, to let what will happen happen. It's not in my nature to be so passive, but I don't really have any other choice, do I? But that's alright. You are one aspect of my life that I have never had any real control over, and I can accept that, as I always have.

Burning

You are the only person I have ever loved with such fervor, such passion. I used to wonder if my feelings were physically manifested, if everyone could see them in the sparkle of my eyes, the curve of my mouth, the freckles on my shoulders. To me, it felt like love was seeping out of my every pore, because if my heart felt so alive then it would only make sense that the rest of my body radiated with the sheer power of it.

On second thought, make all of that present tense. My heart still sings when you're around. I'm not quite sure what it is you do to me, but you do it well. You are making me easier for me to fall for you now than you ever have, and I wonder if it's intentional.

Trying to Take Flight

I'm so scared that this isn't real.

I want it to be, with all of my heart.

Please, please don't let me down again.

Don't make me love you and then change your mind.

I can't play that game anymore; my heart is already a mess.

If this is what you want-- if I'm what you want-- then I'm yours.

Whenever, forever. You make me feel whole.

Head Versus Heart

I don't know where to begin with you.

Let me start by pointing out that I am by far the biggest liar in the universe. I have gone back and forth about you so many times that it's hard to keep track of the roller coaster of feelings that makes up all of my previous posts. That doesn't make me a liar, does it? Just confused. I'll tell you what does make me a liar, though: the fact that I was very aware all along of my feelings for you, whether I was denying them or embracing them, and on top of that, the many times I swore I was done with you. I was never done with you. I will never be done with you.

Where does that leave me? None of my friends particularly want to talk about you with me. They all roll their eyes or visibly steel themselves for what they probably think is the same old bullshit. I hope things are different this time. You tell me that this time, it's for real, and funnily enough, despite everything, I believe you entirely. But this is the worst possible time for things to finally be right for us. I thought I had everything figured out, but you have thwarted me again, and you know it. You may act sorry for putting me in this position, but you're not. And what's more is that I'm not sorry either, no matter how deeply this complicates things.

Forever

For once in my life, my heart feels full.

To my dearest love,

I would do anything for you, if only you'd ask.

And until you do, I'll be waiting right here.

Maybe...

I was wrong. This is the final straw. I don't want to hear your explanations. You can't reason this away. The elephant in the room that we were both trying our best to ignore is now standing between us, and I can't see any way past it. (Her, really.) I can't. I won't.

Goodbyes are often unceremonious, so let's just skip that part.

It's strange to think that this is goodbye.

And Again, To You:

I wrote to you last year, so it's fitting that I write to you again, almost exactly one year later. Can you believe another year has passed? It seems to have slipped through my fingers, through both of ours perhaps. Everything seems different, but it isn't really, it never is. We live in patterns, you and I. There are always slight situational variations, just to keep things interesting, but underneath it all, we repeat ourselves. Our words, our actions, our feelings, all constant.

This year, though, I really believed you. You told me you were in love with me, that you wanted to be with me, and I fell for it-- for the third time no less-- hook, line, and sinker. But then you changed your mind, just as you always do, and left me heartbroken and scrambling to pick up the pieces of myself that you had broken this time. We've never been separated before, and I think the distance made my heart hurt even more. Nevertheless, I managed to pull myself together, yet again, and move on with my life as well as I possibly could.

We fought, for a while. I threw thorned words that I knew would hurt you the most, and you played the martyr. I cried more than I think I ever have and was depressed for a time. I felt terrible for hurting you, but even worse because you had had the nerve to hurt me first, again, so I justified my actions as right and even fair. I grew to resent you and I hated myself for it, but I hated you more, so what did it matter?

Fighting tired us out. We eventually reached our breaking point, and a wave of relief crashed over me. I had missed you, missed the way we were. There was no going back though, not after all that was said and done. We were closer, knew each other better, and it was then that it occurred to me that I would always be able to rely on you, on our friendship. Over the years, I believe what we have has become indestructible. I will always love you, and I know you feel the same way. You will never be absent from my life, as I so feared a year ago. Even if, for some reason I cannot fathom, you faded from me slowly, you would not be gone. That is simply impossible.

Acceptance

I haven't really talked to you in a while, until today. "My boyfriend is so sweet to me. He really loves me, and I don't know why," I said. Without missing a beat, you replied, "I know why." I paused, unsure what to say, because I honestly hadn't been expecting that reaction. You're lying, though. You think you know, but you don't, and I'm not sure that you ever will. We love each other, you and I, but as far as I can tell, nothing will ever become of it. I think I knew this for years, somewhere in the back of my mind, but I fought it with everything I had. Now though, I think I'm finally beginning to accept it.

That's the final stage of grief, isn't it? Acceptance? I've been grieving for far too long over lost opportunities with you, and now I think it's time to try to put it behind me. There's nothing I can do. If it's meant to happen, perhaps it will work out, someday. I believe in us.

Fairy Dust

Lately, I've been coasting. I meander about for hours and accomplish nothing. I have conversations where nothing is really said. I smile even though I do not feel the stirrings of happiness. I have never felt sadness and emptiness of this magnitude until now. There are brief moments where I am fully present, but they are few and far between. It is as if I am merely a spectator of my own life rather than its main participant.

I cannot put a name to this feeling. The only way I can describe it is this: a black hole. I am a black hole, sucking emotion, meaning, and purpose out of my life. Black holes interrupt the space time continuum, and that makes sense, since time seems to be slipping through my fingers like sand. Black holes can suck up entire galaxies. But, I cannot let that happen. I refuse to let this nothingness entirely take hold. I have to fight, but I do not know how just yet.

I think all I need is a little magic.

The Luckiest

"I love you more than I have ever found a way to say to you.

I am the luckiest."

--Ben Folds

Reborn

I do not know what is supposed to happen now. I am waiting to suddenly combust. That would be nice, because maybe then I could be reborn, like a phoenix, from the ashes, and maybe I could start over. And maybe, if I was lucky, I could do it right this time.

If you read this, know that I love you.

Beloved, that's what you will always be to me.