I started to lose her piece by piece, little by little. Just small things here and there, things like “you too” or “bye” just things we had established early on into us that we’d shy away from. I didn’t even realize the slipping at first, I just thought it was a few bad days, every one has them. But as time went on bad days turned to bad weeks, and weeks to months, that’s when I had really noticed that some thing was up.
I’ve been sad before (maybe I still am.) I know what “tired” means. It means you’re really sad, or triggered, or upset, or too ashamed to admit what’s really going on because you already feel like such a waste you don’t want to bother any one. She is tired a lot. She is not a waste.
Some days she actually was tired, really tired. She had bags under her eyes that no amount of pumpkin flavored coffee could ever fix.
She stopped sleeping. She stopped eating, ironically because she was FED up with her image.
She is breathe taking, absolutely beautiful, not in a hallmark, but in a “when she looks at me I get dizzy” kind of way. She just never saw that, and I could never show her…
You see, I’m not a very good man, I’m not there for her in a lot of ways that I should be. I try to be, I do. I’m just, broken. I can’t put into words the affection my body holds for her, I can’t speak it, I can’t show it, but like a massive splinter, or a pounding head ache, my affection is there.
I take a bulk of the responsibility behind the drifting.
I miss her, more and more with each “wasted” day. I wish I could see her again. I know she’s not fully gone, she’s still there, I still see her every day. But if I ever get the blessing of seeing her again, I’d hold her close and tell her “I love you, you’ll never be alone again”
I just hope it wouldn’t get complicated.
I hope it would stay as simple as I love you. Because I do. I always will.