This is a post from the Vault. Occasionally, I will share pieces I wrote in the past during a time of transition. This is one of those. xoxo, Christina.
I try to understand you, but I’m lost in every word you say. Like a maze, you are a million dead ends with only one unseen path through. I can hear you, I can feel you, but your messages come through in fragments, like a cipher meant to rattle my brain.
Speak now, or forever hold your peace. You don’t get to partially break me apart amidst your confusion, then leave me here to reassemble; only to have your silence do it again. A repeat offender, on the run from premeditated heartbreak.
Surprise is the essence of life, but you’re a different breed of chaos. The kind that bleeds me dry; shatters me into fractions. This ends here, if only for the future version of myself - the me who is begging for anyone to hear her say, “you are so much stronger than this.”
My kryptonite is overthinking. Its seductive nature tells me I’ll feel some sense of control if I dive deeper into my thoughts. You harness this power to bring me to my knees. He loves me, he loves me not. Whose to say? Not you. Never you. The guessing game fuels you, while siphoning what’s left of me dry.
Say something, anything. This space between us is hollow, yet it feels heavy with the burden of words unsaid. I’m too weak to walk away, so I’ll crawl instead. Every inch out the door is hard fought, but all I need are your truths to propel me through. Tell me why, make it make sense. Then shut the door, turn the key, and bury our story amongst the graves of “too little too late.”
This is beautiful