Difficult memories serve difficult questions

Her: “All those things you said we would do together. Everything you said you wish you could show me. We will never get to do them now, will we?”

Him: “Why do you always ask me difficult questions?”

“I can’t help it. Their weight burns a hole in my head otherwise.”

“I think we will still be in each other’s lives.”

“But never the same, right? Never fully. Never just as we are, when it’s only us around. Always different, sheltered, slightly estranged in that we can never reveal ourselves as having ever been one.”

“I think you’re overthinking it. Why do you torture yourself over and over like this?”

“Because I know no other way. Because every part of you is burnt into my skin, and you think I should just walk away like it was only meant to be something remembered.”

“But I will never forget it. You will always have a special place in my heart, that is yours and only yours. No one else can ever fill it.”

“I know. But it still cuts me to my bones, every memory floods back like a dagger to my core and it freezes me, looming over my head. I held everything I ever wanted, the world as I wished it in my hands and yet had it ripped from my grasp within seconds.”

“___”

“You told me all the time that I did nothing wrong. That there is nothing wrong with me. But it still wasn’t enough. How do I cope with that? Please, tell me because I have been drowning for almost 3 years, and I still wonder if it ever gets any better.”

“I had no idea you still struggled. Maybe we should just stop talking. I will just move away and give you space.”

“No. Never. Letting go of you is like cutting away a piece of myself and hoping to carry on. Humans can live without an arm or a pinky toe. But how can you cut the heart wide open and expect to carry on? Remain the same? Unchanged?”

“I would never expect you to remain unchanged. Of course not. We have grown and matured so much. Look at who you were before. And who you are now? There is a huge difference. But you must find a way to move on. You cannot stay stuck in this rut of pain. I know where you are now, I have been there before, and it does not serve you to stay there.”

“But I don’t think you do. I know you have seen pain, I know you have been hurt to the point you felt your heart breaking in that very minute, sure the pain you were feeling in the depths of your chest was your heart aching for relief before bursting as you choked for air. You yourself have shared many stories, as your love for story-telling is 2nd only to your love of doing for others what they cannot do for themselves. But have you ever been so devastatingly crushed that for weeks you wail to the roof of your house, to the walls of your darkened room, and to the damp, snot-clumped sheets that hold your frame as it trembles?”

“No.”

“Your family moving about the house, clueless as to what’s going on but so sure there was something terribly heavy amiss. Every day drowning out the thoughts that plagued your peace of mind so great with a music so loud others could only be disgruntled by a genre which offended them. But no one knew why. I cannot stand it. And yet I have found no escape. No release, and still some days find myself choking on a reality that is no longer mine. Shying away from memories that once scattered in the brights of my eyes, because the remembrance is so unbearable that to remember would be to relive, and to relive would be to remind oneself of a lost cause, held on only by the whim of one’s heart so crushed she cannot bear to let go for fear of losing the pieces to the barren ground.”

“I don’t know what else to say.”

“There is nothing else to say. No more words to be spoken. I only put one foot in front of the other and try to find some sense of purpose now. Somewhere to belong, to keep me distracted. Maybe that in itself, is also a problem.”

“You are a good person you know. Your heart is pure, and true. And it shows, all over your face. And you cannot hide it, because that is just who you are. You don’t understand why now, but one day you will.”

“Maybe. But that doesn’t make this cruel torment I hold myself in, any easier to accept.”