Sunday, 3 April 2011

tomorrow is your birthday

It breaks my heart that I can't be with you, that I can't spoil you - not with material things, but with my love - that I can't show you there are good, kind people in this world who love you very much and who want nothing more than to see you smile. I imagine you feeling alone, unloved, wondering what the hell happened to your life. Wondering why the hell you gave any of it to me ... I mean, look where that got you, right. Maybe you don't feel any of that. Maybe you're just grateful you dodged a bullet - the bullet that is me - as quickly as you did. And maybe tomorrow you'll give thanks for that, for the relief of it. Probably though, you won't think of me at all.

Tomorrow, I know my heart will ache all day. I'll think of you constantly, I'll be terribly lonely, I'll feel regret for any and everything I ever did to hurt you (not that I don't feel that every day), I'll wish, almost desperately, that you would let me make it up to you even in some small way. And in the secret places in my heart that I've been trying so damned hard to lock away, I'll wish I was with you, loving you, being loved by you.

You want me to leave you be. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Every day is a painful, confusing struggle and tomorrow will be one of the hardest. So I have been asking myself, "what would love do?". And finally I have something that feels about as right as anything can feel right now.

Love would wish you happy birthday, because that's what's in my heart, and then love would keep trying (with all its might) to let you go.

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