10:49pm Feel It

Dear A,

The silence is most difficult in the quiet hours of the early morning and the late night wanderings of my hurt heart. I find myself reaching for the phone to call and tell you about my day and to ask about yours. I want to tell you everything I've been doing. I want to tell you how hard I'm working to come home and begin the life I imagined when I left last year. I want to tell you about all the medical testing they've been doing on me and how nervous I am for the endoscopy I'm having in two weeks. I want to tell you about the trip I have planned with Val to Florida.

But I can't tell you any of these things. I can't talk to you, because every time I reach for the phone to text you, I remember why we're where we are. You hurt me. You have no idea. You claimed to love me, but your actions and the sting of your feeling-less words contain no love that I want a part of. You don't know how to love me, and I can't change that, but I can change whether or not I want to participate in it, and I don't. I deserve so much more than someone who is capable of "shutting off" their feelings for me in a split second. That makes me feel like I never meant anything at all.

I know it's just a coping mechanism. I know that you've been hurt before and so you've developed a very unhealthy way of dealing with things you don't want to feel. I know you're scared to be alone. I know you're scared of commitment so you treat it like "no big deal" to convince yourself that there's always an easy way out.  But it's so dangerous, because when you cut yourself off from feeling the bad things, you cut yourself off from feeling the good things too. Shit happens, but that doesn't mean you hide from it. You show up and you face it. You feel it. You feel all of it.

That's what I'm doing right now. I'm feeling all of the sorrow and all of the hurt and all of the anger. I am suffering through every wave of anxiety and every valley of despair. And it's hard. And I feel so, so alone. But I know that because I'm capable of feeling great pain, I am also capable of feeling great great joy, and I just have to hold on long enough for the joy to find me again. And it will. I deserve greatness. I deserve so much more than you were willing to give me. I gave you everything, all of my time, all of my patience and all of my love. All I asked was that you do the same for me, and you couldn't. Not when it really mattered, anyway.

In the quiet moments, I remember all of the beautiful parts of you. I remember the fits of laughter and the sweet, tender moments. I remember dancing with you in my tiny dorm room. I remember the way my hand felt in yours. It's hard to remember all of these good things and not wish for them back. It's hard to remember your kindness and not want to call you and tell you that it's all okay. But I can't, because I'm not okay. Because you shut me off in an instant, and no amount of good memories make up for the pain of realizing that I didn't mean nearly as much to you as you meant to me.

-M