No one saves you.
Not a boyfriend, or partner, or friend, or family member.
Sure, they can help. Make you feel better for a short while.
But they don’t fix you.
No amount of love from someone else will amount to anything if you still hate yourself.
I’m not saying we all need to love ourselves.
It’s too much to ask.
But just being neutral would be nice.
Not hating ourselves for other people’s misdemeanors, and forgiving ourselves for our own.
Otherwise we’re searching constantly for someone else to say;
“YES! You are good enough!”
“YES! You have value!”
“YES! You are loved!”
But it doesn’t always go like that.
People let you down.
Sometimes people just don’t know what to say.
And if you’re waiting for them to put your pieces back into place, you’ll crumble when they don’t.
And then it’s their fault.
But it’s not.
It’s nobody’s fault.
Let’s not assign more blame.
You’re just hurting.
From old wounds, re-opened.
The more you ignore it, the worse it will get.
You can exist outside of other people’s opinions of you.
You won’t suffocate.
And you won’t drown either.
we once walked the same path.
you and i.
for four years, almost.
the same well worn trail.
there were small flowers growing out of our footprints.
and moss slowly growing on fallen branches.
and ferns reaching for light in the dark of the undergrowth.
we used to hold hands as we walked.
i don’t think i even realised our paths had diverged until i was clinging onto your hand by my out-stretched arm and my fingertips.
and you weren’t reaching for mine anymore.
i looked up, and could barely see you through the thicket that had enveloped the gulf now between us.
i didn’t see the warning signs.
i didn’t see the cracks beneath our feet.
i didn’t notice you veering off on your own course to avoid a fallen tree.
“two roads diverged in a wood”
it is not our path anymore.
it is not our story anymore.
and it’s mine.
two separate paths winding their own course through the forests.
but for four years it was ours.
and it was magic,
because the path we walked together was golden.
“Sounds like you have a lot to process at the minute”
“Leaving your job…”
“That promotion, that sounded like it was something you were really passionate about…”
“And I guess you’re still processing your new diagnosis too?”
Yeah, I am. It’s a lot.
“And then having to deal with all the negative emotions that come with a break-up too?”
Yeah, that’s pretty hard.
“And then there’s the added stress of moving continents for the second time in a year.”
“That sounds like an awful lot to deal with for one person”
I guess it is. You’ve summed it up quite well.
It is a lot to deal with. It’s a lot to process. I’m not sure I’m ready to move on yet. In any way, shape or form.
I think I just need to sit down.
because i’ve waited so many times before
for a text, for you to come through the front door
you’re not like them, i know
but 8 years of being treated otherwise
is hard to unlearn
harder to let go
nights without texts
mornings without texts
all the next day without texts
i guess i should’ve known this was a precursor
to my calling you “ex”
foolishly waiting like a puppy at the door
i couldn’t ignore
i guess that’s because you’d lost all my trust
and i was right
these nagging sensations in my gut
because two years ago i found out what i already knew
and i was just painting over rust
regardless of who it is
i still feel the same
i can’t sleep til they’re home
i won’t switch off that part of my brain
because i’ve lost this before
how do you mend a trust universally broken?
i can’t say it out loud
“fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself”
best left unspoken.