Shared by Amanda
You wonder if you might be in love; you remember feeling like you could give this boy the world and you’d still be the luckiest girl alive. Maybe you can wait, let him say it first; if you’re so close to falling, surely he’s not far behind.
But there are things he didn’t tell you or perhaps signs you chose to ignore. It’s not meant to happen like this, it’s not what you wanted. Where do you go when he doesn’t know what he wants and he’s everything you do?
So you force a goodbye and you make your way to the door. And suddenly his hands are at your waist and your arms around his neck, and it’s sad and desperate, and you hide from the reality that you can no longer carry on in this way together.
You begin to take the steps to let go; you forgive the silence, the misunderstanding, the darkness. You forget the damage; the weeks you were so heartbroken, you couldn’t look in the mirror without crying; the nights you learned the only way you could sleep, was to wait for the exhaustion to follow your tears; the mornings you woke up with a damp pillow from the hurt you wept through your dreams.
You try to get some perspective, to see it as an experience; he was not your life, only a part of it. You let the past drift and while your feelings linger, you think about your happiest moments and you remember the time you felt warm, safe and loved.
You remember the ease of your first date, your first kiss, the first time he held your hand. You remember your walks together through the different parts of town, leading you through the places of his childhood; you remember the way he’d stop in the middle of the street, his hands finding his way around your waist because he couldn’t wait till later to kiss you; you remember his hand on the small of your back, the reassurance of him at your side as you waited for your drink in a crowded bar. You remember those nights and those lazy mornings, and you remember waking up to his touch with your bodies still entwined.
And then you remember the last time you saw him, and all the hurt and the sorrow of your last kiss, and the way he held your face in his hands, for those few beats, and you remember the last time he whispered, “Stay.”
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