Protection - Alex

You didn’t ask me to stay (how could you?). In fact, you encouraged me to leave, with a silence I misheard as the promise you would be there upon my return—whenever that may be. We would both be different, but for the better. I would slide effortlessly into your open arms, and after a little reacquainting, we would pick up where we left off. It was the kind of foolish that only the luxury of confidence and contentment can buy. 

You slipped away. Slowly at first. And then completely. I barely even noticed, distracted by self-indulgence, separated by space. Until it was too late. 

Sometimes, I wonder what we would be if I had never left. You: the sun, warm smiles, barbeques, book clubs, covered in paint, tickled with laughter. Me: full and happy enough to breed the arrogant assumption that my absence would have only but a slight effect. We are an energy magnified by memory.

Here, there is nothing—not a voice, not a street, not a picture. It’s like you are a ghost, something fictional I made up; your greatness, a rose-colored hyperbole, red-hot, iron branded onto my brain to make myself feel worse about who I am, where I am, and who I am with. Would you even recognize me now? I am a shell, walls cracking from within.

So, I protect myself. I play with him, I brunch with her, I drink. I surround myself with to-do lists, friends and tedious details to forget that you ever existed, that you are presently, constantly missed. I drink. I dream. I make jokes and laugh if others do the same. I follow suit; I am a good girl. And, I drink. 

Sometimes I catch myself laughing so hard my eyes shut out everything, and in these moments, I am able to forget you. But as soon as my eyes open and the corners of my mouth fall back down into place, I aware of your absence tenfold. I am aware of what I happily—no, eagerly—forfeited for something better, something different. 

What would we be? Whom would we know? Are we really that much better? Are we really that much worse? 

I am angry. You cripple my every move, my every advance. The memory of you belittles every victory, seems to spoil every achievement. You are a constant plaguing eclipse. However, it is far too much to pretend you did not exist. I am who I am and where I am because of you. 

I miss you. I love you. And at times I may want you back more than I can stomach. But mostly I just want to move on. 

If I could take a pill and erase every step, I think would swallow the entire bottle. I wouldn’t wait for water; my mouth dry, throat sticky. But then, I would wake up in bed with you again, staring out the window, wondering what I was missing. 

We had our time together, it was great, but it’s over. 

Now, right now, 

we can be whatever we want;

We are something new. 

And instead,

I’ll drink to that.