It has been 1,045,320 seconds since I last heard the sounds of your voices. I think about you all the time. Stare at your pictures. Wonder what you are doing, if you are happy, if you still love me. It’s like purgatory, this waiting, not knowing. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so tortured.
A spectacular void has taken residence in my heart. It sits there, empty, unyielding and cold. I have never considered a world where you were not in it. I have never considered a time when our future would be uncertain.
Some days I feel like breaking myself into thousands of shards because the pain feels so unbearable to endure. I thought I knew heartbreak until the notion of you exiting my world became a possibility, and then I discovered suffering that knows no bounds. It takes root, and seizes you slowly. There is nothing swift in its gradual, absolute acquisition of my emotions.
I have moments where I feel the toll of insecurity in every facet of my life. I rewind every decision, the words I’ve chosen, how I’ve handled x, y, and z. Its shaken my confidence in my ability to navigate in this world and feel assured of my decisions. When I stop moving, my mind takes over every aspect, and I can’t escape its scrutiny. I have always been my own worst critic, and that voice that I permanently carry, the damaged one who has no faith in happiness, has been the loudest. Its drowns out everything else I hear or think. As much as I can stay mobile, it eases the barrage of my own thoughts as they bombard me from every front.
I wish that I could put words to this agony, but there is no way to describe what it feels like when the heart is beaten and ripped open. How the ache never ceases. Or when I lay down to rest, I see you as soon as I shut my eyes, sleep only coming in spurts and fits. The relentless fatigue from missing you, and missing parts of myself that I fear may never return. A persistent fear that a form of trust has been broken between us, and a constant worry that it may never be rebuilt to the same place. The parts of my mind that want to run into insanity, just so the burden of this hurt can be lessened, or forgotten.
1,047,360 seconds (and counting).
Reflections of a woman spawned in a cement cocoon...