I feel myself shrinking. Tighter and tighter I have to wrap my arms further around my slowly disappearing middle. Rib cage protruding, limbs becoming hollow and I can’t help but think it’s all because of you. You. You placed this worry within my gut. You put within me the desire to fight and run and hide. You broke me down.
I’m recognizing the moments I squinted to make the barrier between us fuzz from view. I see the flatness in your eyes, the look they held far too often, the look that I told myself was nothing to worry about. I remember the gut feeling of wrong, the panic stricken words that stuck in my throat when you asked what I wanted from all of this.
I wanted understanding. I wanted comfort. In that moment I wanted reassurance and when I’d spoken my piece, you countered with an ultimatum: know this is what you want or let go. I didn’t know, but god did I want to. I wanted to know you cared as much as I did, that you wanted me near as much as I wanted you, that you could accept my shortcomings and love my messy whole.
I can’t say the sting of your words is gone, much less forgiven. I can’t say I don’t miss you. I can’t say my chest doesn’t ache at the thought of you. But I’m getting there — faster than I would have had this happened any other way.
So thank you, for being you.