But I was listening and I did hear you. You weren’t listening. You couldn’t hear me begging for more, for the reassurance that I wanted and needed, the signs that everyone else could see, the yelling from the mountaintop that you loved me and your heart and your mind and your soul belonged to me.
You’ll never be happy. You’ll never be content.
Maybe I won’t, but in these days that we’ll spend apart, I hope against hope that you’ll see my photo in your wallet and think of my lips against yours. That you’ll see my messages in your inbox and remember holding my hand. That you’ll lay in bed and remember how it felt to hold me as we slept. Because you know I will always be doing the same.
I’ll have tears in my eyes everyday from remembering, and nothing in the world could ever make me want to forget.
Thank you for this last beautiful month that we’d spent together. That we’d spent trying to find a way to be together. But you’re right. I’ll never be happy, and I’ll never be content. Not with this.
I’ll always remember how I disregarded the one thing I’d prided myself in for so long, how my pride meant nothing as I twisted and bent my heart and my soul and myself to be what you wanted, and you could never do the same.
You were right. We wanted different things.
You wanted someone who could love you for what you were and never ask for more. I wanted someone willing to be what I needed.
Maybe we had been fooling ourselves into thinking with our hearts instead of our heads. Maybe we really weren’t meant to be together.
But maybe we were, and our together just wasn’t here, or now.
I’ll always be hoping. Days, months, years, it wouldn’t matter. Friends, lovers, collectors, debtors, it wouldn’t matter.
I’ve always said that I’ve lived through life—trudged through my days—with no regrets, but if I gave up on you now, I know that that would cease to be true. Either way, no matter how this ends, now, or in the future, with us happy or devastated, I’ll always regret letting you walk out that door without a fight.
I climbed mountains with you. We overcame them together.
Don’t ever forget.
“You haven’t written anything in a while.” She said. “No time?”
“No feelings.” He said nonchalantly, scrolling through one more page of nonsense on his screen.
“Oh, I forgot. Write from emotion.” She hummed. “How is that possible?”
“How is what possible?”
“Not feeling anything. Not having feelings. Not having anything to write about.”
He considered this for a minute and shrugged before going back to work.
We drew the lines together somewhere and totally forgot about them until we’d crossed them.
She was nothing more to him in that moment than a wild animal with rabies, just another human wolf tearing herself apart. He felt that if he didn’t get out now, he’d be collateral damage.
It wasn’t his fault. She’d broken herself into so many pieces it was impossible to put her back together. A mess, as she’d always said. There was no fixing her. There was no point trying.
He wouldn’t remember this day. Not until years from now, when he was lying in his deathbed with his own family surrounding him. He’d lie there and remember that girl, killed by human wolves, beautiful and delicate, and completely shattered.
He wouldn’t remember her until then, in all her resplendent glory, eyes tired from pleading and crying and squinting too hard trying to understand.
And then he’d think, finally, that maybe he had been the wolf all along.
“Do you love me?”
She asked for the nth time.
“Of course.” He replied.
She watched him through half-lidded eyes as his eyes lit up with the infinitely amusing things the world had to offer. She watched, and she waited, and she asked again, “Do you love me?”
“You know I do.” He said.
She rolled over to her side and let out a deep breath.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, finally turning to her, a hint of annoyance in his voice.
“Nothing.” She replied, a small smile on her lips. “I love you.”
He went back to scrolling through the endless pages of everything that mattered, and she fell asleep.
Originally posted on Tumblr on Jan 30th 2013