Sunday, 18 February 2018

The persistence of memory.

Dear Time, please don't leave me behind.
       Please don't leave me in the moment of a broken heart, after a love leaves and the other half of the bed goes cold. Don't leave me waking up every morning wondering how I'm going to survive the numb feeling of loss, the empty feeling of that missing piece.
Why is it that when two lovers part ways, one always gets left behind to pick up all the broken pieces, so small and fragile it's even questionable if it can be pieced back together. And the one who doesn't, has the strength to replace the once so vibrant love in an instant.
       For all those lucky enough to have never been left behind, let me paint a picture, a monét of emotion if you will....

       Being left behind is standing in a club watching a car crash unfold. Watching the man who holds your delicate heart in his perfect hands, reach out for somebody that isn't you. Being left behind is being told that he loves you but in that same millisecond throw his arms around another girl and pull her close to his face. Being left behind is watching him leave with her and still loving him so deeply as he does it. Being left behind is being looked in the eye as he disrespects you and pulls her into the taxi and you feel the warmth of the unforgiving tears cascading down your frozen cheeks. Being left behind is knowing you should have left hours ago but you're too deeply broken, you're paralysed in horror. Being left behind is him pretending he doesn't know you when he sees you, like the two years of love and devotion never happened. Like I never happened. Then being laughed at, like your raw emotion is all a joke, one night of comedy with yours truly.
       Being left behind is praying, hoping he won't make the choice to be intimate with her, please God, Mother nature, fate, whoever..... Please I beg you that intimacy was only for me. Being left behind is knowing that he will.
       Being left behind is going home and spending the dead of night crying in the toilet because the vision burnt into the back of your eyes of your man kissing another girl makes you sick to your stomach. Being left behind is playing the bad parts on repeat over and over and over again like a groundhog day of true undeniable misery. Being left behind is being told he just needed space, and actually being stupid enough to believe he'd come back, open arms and open heart.     
      Being left behind is realising everything you did for them, all the support, all the dedication, all the money, all the love, means nothing really in the end. Because sooner or later that tight grip you had on your life will slip away, and they will walk away from you no matter how much you beg them to stay. And you will be so overcome by grief and confusion you will succumb to crazy, frantic to prevent them from falling through the cracks in your tired fingers.
       And your heart will break. And you will cry. And all of the love, the happiness, the laughs, the cuddles, the meals, the plans..... well, I guess they don't matter anymore. Because all that matters right now is him and her driving away into the distance in that taxi. And the longer I watched, and further it drove, the faster my heart started to shatter. Because in that one moment I knew he was gone. The hope had died. He had moved on.

So dear time, please don't leave me behind.