She hadn’t intended to stay out all night, just needed to calm down, let things settle. Part of her expected to find him gone, true to his word. She couldn’t blame him. He was right to call her selfish and inconsiderate she had realised. For the thousandth time she was mulling over the argument in her mind, the first one where either of them had stormed out, when she saw the packing boxes in the hall. Fearing the worst she looked at the labels. Both of their stuff was packed, and on top of one sat a piece of paper that read,
‘Wherever you go I’ll go and i hope we never separate, but if we do I will wait. Always.’
He said he couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say, but the truth is he could. He’d been waiting for months, knowing the heart of the person now sat in front of him better than it’s owner. He expected the words would be heartfelt, if a little hollow in the light of what he now knew, and that they would both cry. But there were no tears, no sweet embrace and the only words were cold and sharp,
“You drove me to this.”
I can’t remember when it shifted, maybe some time last September, my spirits lifted with the thought of what could be. But they fell to the ground fast, without a sound and now I’m slowly building them up.
I’ve changed and been changed so many times again I can barely recognise myself in the pictures of who I was then; looking out from the mirror, a chubby ghost masquerading as me. He’s not quite Christmas Future with a warning but Past told me that I would lose her, and I’m still in mourning.
My brain has strayed from the line that defines who I am and what I always hoped I could be.
I thought I was evolving but this cycle of self sabotage is just revolving, careening down the mountain side with nothing to break, but me. How can I stand tall when it takes more than my all just to get out of bed.
My rock long lost, I just roll with the punches thrown from my own fist. I know I’ve lost control when I wonder if I’d even be missed.
So I tell myself I’m better than this, my declining mental health will desist, if I don’t give in. If I don’t give in to the urge to stay inside, to purge the things I own, distance the people I love and embrace the desire to be alone.
Just hold on to yourself.
You are so much more than your mental health.
The suitcase was under a pile of winter coats in the closet. If it hadn’t been for the unseasonable weather she might not have found it, noted it’s weight and caved to curiosity.
Inside she found his favourite jeans, some band tees and a couple other items he had claimed to have donated. Tucked in the front pocket was a letter adressed to her.
She was nearly at the end, weeping, when he came home.
“So that’s it?” She said. “You don’t love me anymore?”
“I’m not sure I ever did,” he said. “I just loved you loving me.”
The compliment felt more like an insult now. It had been rattling round her brain like a tiny pebble in her shoe, mostly ignorable but the source of frequent sharp pains. She tried to recall as many gestures and phrases as she could and filtered them through hindsight. Words like ‘ridiculous’ took on completely different meanings depending on tone; had she been misremembering things, hearing what she wanted to?
It was amicable, she had been telling everyone, they’d remain friends she said.
It has been three weeks and the last words he said, that little pebble, is getting harder and harder to ignore.
“No one will ever be good enough for you.”