I’m trying so hard right now. I’m sitting at my library cubicle and I’m trying hard not to think about you and trying hard not to think about Emmett and trying hard to concentrate on my thesis which I think is going to look really cool if I can ever stop thinking about everything and just think about it.
But I’m failing. I watch the clock and wonder if you’re going to come visit me. I hope and am terrified that you will because I don’t want you to see how damaged I am right now. And right when I’m just about to give into the idea of one more day without having you in my life (like what I said in Burying the Ghost), I get a message from you:
“You don’t need to promise. I know you will be.
I’m so sorry for hurting you.
I’m sorry for getting angry all the time, for loving you at the wrong times and in the wrong ways.
I’m sorry for my lack of patience and my lack of trust.
I’m sorry that I may have done more harm to you by now than good.
But I know in spite of all of this that you will be ok, not because of me, and not because the things you go through are trivial, because they are so hard.
Just because I know it.
And I feel really sorry and regretful this week…but what keeps me going is knowing that you’re going to be happy, I know it, and I just want you to be happy.”
And I just can’t help from weeping. From shortening my breath and holding it in so that no one will hear my cries, my heaving goddamn breaths. But I cant. I just can’t. I read everything you write and it just sticks into me like a knife. Not that you’re writing to me. That part is the only thing keeping me going. It’s the part where you talk about loving me at all the wrong times and in all the wrong ways. And it kills me inside because I feel the same way. Why did I not love you enough while we were together. Why did I not love you enough to stop me from saying the things I’ve said. Why did I not love you enough to give you up when things were at the end. Why do I still love you know that it is the worst time to love you. I’m so sorry. I’m so damn sorry. I’m just sorry. I’m just so sorry.
And then you said you know I’ll be happy. I will be happy in the future, and that makes you happy. I don’t know what that means. No, I do know that that means. It means that I will get over you. And be happy again. But I don’t want to be happy again if it means not loving you anymore.
And I know that I’m just being stupid. I’m being predictable. I’m being just like everyone else. Which is only bad because I know that I’m doing it and I can’t stop myself. I feel like my own Cassandra, foretelling the doom of myself and not hearing the words that my brain is saying. I know this because I’ve done it before. I once loved someone, Emma, so much that just seeing her sent me over the edge. I wanted to die just to escape the pain.
But you know that I’ll be happy. And that makes you happy. But what if I’m never happy again. What if I break and stay broken and never stop grieving. It has to stop. It has to stop it has to stop. I’m in so much pain right now.
Oh Gods, oh Gods (sung in the tune from Once on this island)
It’s going to get better.
It’s going to get better because it has to get better.
I just need to live through this and it will get better.
It has to get better.