I'm sorry. I guess it's really not about you. It's definitely about me. I have an incredibly broken heart about the whole thing still, and you can't fix it. You can't replace her. Get it? And I can't help that every time I see you I'm reminded of that gaping wound, that place where everything I'd latched onto over 10, 15 years was suddenly ripped out. Maybe not suddenly. It was slowly, over a few weeks. It was painful. And I still have that pain, but I'm lighter now. I'm getting over it. I'm moving on.
You can't replace her. I know, you're probably not trying, but I thought I'd put it out there. She was the one I looked up to, she made me who I am today. She was the most important person in my life, and I realise that now looking back. It was how she understood; it was how she made everyone feel good, feel welcome. We had disagreements, arguments, but I needed them. They shaped me. We connected.
I'm still angry at him, too, you know. I haven't been able to forgive him, and I know I should, and I kind of have, but I still haven't. How could he throw all that away? He asked us before he married her. He wanted to make sure we were OK with it, that this was the right thing to do, and we said yes. Very yes. We accepted. We walked down the aisle with her. We all became one that day.
Could he just have figured out how to make it work? How to fix his life so life could be worth the cost of living? We depended on them being together. Well, I did. I guess I can't speak for the others. I depended on them. They were home.
I realised in those tense, trying few weeks that he could never fix anything. He couldn't do it the first time. I realise how scummy he must have been, seeing it now with adult eyes. And I realise the second time, he must not have even tried, that every time she came back, she was doing it for love of him, but he never saw it. He was too bleary-eyed, too engrossed in other things. He couldn't find center. I'm not sure he has.
And with you, he didn't ask. He didn't ask me, anyway. Who knows if he asked anyone else, but he didn't have my approval. My heart was shattered already. I have no one else to give it to. I don't have a family anymore. It's broken.
I know, this sounds too dramatic, it's a fabrication of the theatrical life that drives me to write these words, but I have to tell you they are what I feel. They are me now. And I have to live the rest of my days with them. They stick in my chest sometimes, they make my back hurt, and sometimes they crawl into my brain and water my cheeks. But I live on. And I'm getting over it, I really am. But you have to keep out of it. Leave me to my brokenness. I'll build something stronger that cannot break. I'll build my own damn family.
It's not your fault, believe me. You're just in the wrong place. I'm sorry.
Post a Comment