I will fight…

Until the day the world stops turning. And they will fall to ashes, I will just keep burning.   But tonight, I need you to save me. I’m too close to breaking, I see the light. I am standing on the edge of my life.

I’ve been so upset lately about things going on that I can’t control.  I suppose, in theory, I could have stopped them from happening, but I really couldn’t.  Once things are set in motion they tumble and roll down the hill and snowball until they hit the brick wall and explode. I’ve held on to everything so tight that my knuckles have cracked and bled. I’m not sure I know how to let go.  But over the last few days I’ve realized I need to.  I can’t hold on anymore.  I’m being pulled under.  Sleep isn’t possible.  Breathing has become a luxury.  It’s a luxury I can’t afford to lose.  Breathing isn’t exactly one of those things you can just give up on a whim.

With each step I hold my breath, and I’m tangled in your spiderwebs. I call out but I fall, and I wonder if you ever cared at all. 

I feel like I’m giving up on so much by this realization, but at the same time, I remember how much I’m gaining.  I’ve been so worried about getting my best friend back, that I forgot how hard things had gotten lately between us.  Pouring a boiling pot of my fuckery onto a friend, she just looked at me and said, “Do you realize that he stopped being your best friend a long time ago?”  No. I hadn’t.  But we spent a long time talking about it.  She’s right.  There were great things and bad things. But the last few months had gotten bad.  We fought angry and bitter.  I cried. I hid myself. I cowered in fear of the verbal repercussions of every sentence I’d speak.  That’s not how things had EVER been with the one I’d spent forever coaxing from the edge and back to humanity.

This is how it all turns out. You’re the hero, I’m left out. I should’ve known you couldn’t stand up for me and be a man.

This isn’t to say that I place blame solely or remotely on him.  When the first little bit broke through, I should have said then and there that I wasn’t okay with that.  I didn’t. I let things fester and boil until they were too far gone to salvage.  And it’s sad because since the nuclear explosion, there were things said, on both sides, that crossed lines.  I don’t know that we can go back to what we were. Ever. Friends, yeah. But as to being one of the most important people in my life, yeah, he always will be.  But I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust him the way I did before. That burns.

I still have dreams of you at night. I can’t tell the dark from light. I never thought I’d be the one you’d leave behind.

I won’t say that it’s a relief to come to the realization. Because it isn’t. It’s just there. It’s a fact. Things have changed. Irreparably. I don’t think I can ever forgive him for certain things he’s said to me. And I know there are things he’ll never forgive me for.  We’re working on being friends. We’re trying. It’s just rough to go from being able to call any time with anything and knowing that I can trust him with anything, and that I’m safe, to not having that.  It’s better this way, since it means I have to learn to function without a crutch. I think that’s what we’d both become to each other.

You said you’d stay, I said I’d wait.  All those words we spoke in vain. I still recall the bitter taste. I guess some things never change. And then I think of yesterday, and every promise that you made. I never thought I’d be the one that you would break.

I’m not happy with my decision to let go and try to figure out what to do and how to function with a chunk missing, but it’s necessary. It’ll be a learning process. Usually when I get to that point, it’s because I’ve been forced to do it.  People either drive me to the point of walking away, which is super rare, or they walk away from me.  This is me backing away so that I don’t have to walk away.  I’m hoping it works, as civility has only recently started creeping back into our conversations.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s