He left

Published March 22, 2016 by 51percentawesome

Again. Not surprised, not surprising.

Standing in shock in dark, cold, beneath a full moon. Holding my sleeves on an empty road. A car appears and it flicks to high-beam and drives right on past me.

I vacuum and my parents visit and my legs tremble and my armpits sweat as I tell them ‘he said he never wants to see me again. he said he is out of patience for me’ and my eyes fuzz and I hold onto the ground as my dad replies ‘you do have a lot of baggage’.

He left.

Why? Are you serious though? How can I believe you when this morning you said you wanted to spend your life with me? How can you go to that from holding me to you and stroking my hair as I fell asleep, in a drool puddle on your chest? What happened?

Avoidant personality disorder.

Bipolar disorder.

Labels take a while to make sense, to mean something real with a tangible reality, when they are applied to someone other than yourself.

He said he wanted to travel alone. Time slowed down again. Time became quiet, almost silent. Just a gentle whooshing and the thud of a distant pulse, probably mine, as I breathe in, breathe out, breathe in.

Ache.

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