I clung

“Some people have only one skill, and they struggle to lead their career with it. But you, you have so much, much more”…

Thank you for trusting your world in my hands and patiently letting me fail time after time at managing it, just to encourage me to try again. Thank you for your guidance, thank you for all your love. Thank you for growing me into the woman you see today. I’m sorry if I broke you.

Your words meant a world to me. I loved you without questions. I loved you without knowing who you were. I loved you without understanding. Without expecting anything in return. And I never spoke of my love.

I clung to each one of your words as though it was mine to you, as though you had reflected what was already inside me, without the complication of our minds. I loved you so deeply & madly, so lost among my peers at even the mention of your heart. I clung to you as my reflection, as my only unknowing & unwitting heart, as the murmur of my light-headedness around you.

I did not recognise myself. Shy, awkward and self-doubting, this was a broken version of my soul. My happiness was shooed away by fleeting doubts of worth and time. I clung, with all my heart and every breath that I felt wasn’t mine anymore. I clung.

I clung. Yet today I’ve let you go. I’m sorry if I broke you on the way here.

 

When your world falls apart

My world has ended so many times. Each time a love has broken apart and away out of my heart.
Each time I’ve had to let go the dreams and plans woven around a person. Each time I’ve had to let go an ideal, a goal, a fixation.

I love to a point of exhaustion, where I consume the other person, engulf their hopes, dreams, aspirations. To the point where I feel their cries, understand their fears and I lose myself in a confusion of their thoughts amalgamated with my own.

I love to a point of exhaustion, where I am not whole anymore but two in the mind of one, creating a chattering chaos that makes me yearn for the freedom of being nothing again. To a point where the thought of separation hurts so stringently I  have to carry that person with me in my mind, regardless of where I am and their presence becomes futile because the image I have built of them exceeds any real qualities they could ever have.

I love to the point I am weakened by a numb pain of disappointment that my person does not live up to the image I’ve climbed so high in my heart, and painted with so many thoughts in my head, that I have no option but to let them go. I let go to find relief rush over me. And despite all the pain I had foresee killing me at the separation from my loved one, I am still alive, intact, relieved. My world has ended yet again, but I’m still here.