It’s funny, how we humans cling to the smallest thread of hope when it can hurt us so much.
But he was a seemingly never ending thread clinging to me, and for every inch I found there seemed to be three more. Now, as I’m sitting here with pain in my heart, and another set of a million questions in my head, maybe, I think, it’s time to let go.
I still remember the moments I was in love with him. They’re fleeting now, sometimes my mind replays them late at night, as if warning me of the mistake I’ve made. How should it know it was a mistake, when these last few months giving back into his love has felt like a dream?
How should I know?
How should I know I don’t love him anymore?
How should I know why a part of me still loves him and aches to be with him and kiss him and just love HIM?
The truth is, I don’t know.
But I know what I need to do right now, and that it is the right decision at this point in my life.
Tomorrow, I will write him a long letter. A letter that I really wish he could avoid being hurt from, but one that he needs to read. Because if not, he won’t ever understand why we need to go our separate ways.
It’s sort of ironic, in a way, that it’s taken me this long to realize that I need to write that letter. As if our love has still kept me blind to why I left in the first place.
But I’m just reflecting to put off what I have to do. I have been for months. And maybe all those crucial moments of time in the last few months I could have done it. But it just never felt right, I just never felt ready to let go.
So tomorrow, I’ll get rid of that thread, dangling loosely from the whole of the tapestry of my life. After all, it’s had it’s shining moment, but now it’s time to cut it from the whole.
God, this will hurt.
I’m holding the scissors open around that stupid thread.
I’m closing my eyes. I can’t watch.
Done. The End. No more.
I love you.