Or maybe I’m losing. I can’t decide.
All I know is: I still love him.
It was very hard for me to admit that. I’d rather be able to say: I’m indifferent about him. To just shrug my shoulders and walk away. To act like I haven’t been waiting for him to text or call or show up on my door step and – well, I don’t know what he would do if he were talking to me. Because he’s not. Instead, we are at an exquisite impasse of silence and pain.
I almost want to revel in how awful this feels. I want to cherish the pain. I want to not ever forget that he made me feel this way. That I felt this way about someone else. This sensation of curdled love, like a rock in the bottom of my heart, sinking into myself and falling apart.
Because I know that eventually, my love for him will fade. He is not here to remind of why I love him. He is not here to foster my love, to make me love him more. Now that he is gone, there is nothing for me to do with this love. It is trash, and I am dragging it out, one bucketful at a time, and throwing it away.
Who will I be when my love for him is gone completely? It is easy for me to know who I am now: a woman, torn to pieces by the failures of love. It is easy for me to mourn and moan and beg for mercy and elicit pity. This is a role I know well.
I know who I am when I love him, too. I know that I am pretty when we were are together, when he holds my face and tells me he loves me, too.
But who will I be when all of this is over. I am afraid of what my life will look like when there are no more big emotions. When indifference is the demon that rules my spirit. When I am in pain, I have a reason to drink and cry. When I am in love, I have a reason to fuck and laugh. When I feel nothing – that’s when I have no reason to do anything at all. When my love for him is gone, where there be any love left at all?
I hang onto my love for him, even though it hurts to touch, because I would rather be filled with a rancid love than filled with nothing at all. I can dine on these memories for years to come. I will starve if I tell myself it’s okay that there’s nothing left.