You’re Love Me, But Not Enough To Let Me Go

You’re not going to keep your word. This shouldn’t surprise me because you never have. I have bolstered my fragile hopes with all the potential this love exemplifies, but potential is only that; a glimpse of something that might be if one is willing to do the work. It requires action to move forward and we are never moving forward. The realization of this makes me feel like I have swallowed ice and it has lodged itself in the center of my chest. I have cried a river of tears, praying that I’m wrong, knowing all the while that I am not. Only one of us is trustworthy and that one is me. I should start listening to myself more; I know what I’m talking about.

There are so many things that hurt me in this, but it’s not what has transpired between us that breaks me. It’s all the things that will not. The loss of my unrequited dreams is so much more painful than I anticipated. There were so many things I couldn’t wait to show you, so much I wanted to experience with you. I realized this morning, you’re not going to help me write down our love story. You’re not going to see me walk down the aisle, aglow with all the love I have for you. You’re not going to make love to me in the early morning hours or in the middle of the night. You’re not going to be there to hold my hand during the trials of life or comfort me when I’m afraid (and I do get scared, you know, although I try to hide it every waking moment). You’re not going to create a home with me or let me create a safe haven for you. You’re not going to laugh with me when we’re old, smile into my eyes and still see the young woman behind all the wrinkles and age spots. You’re not going to let me hold your hand (or vice versa) as we pass from this life into the next. You’re not going to let me love you…not like I want to. You’re not. And I am left breathless by the cruelty and stupidity of it all, because what we have will never come again. But you make all the decisions for us and I am tired of trying to ride out the whims of a man who doesn’t love me enough to truly love me.

So you’re not, but I am.

I am going to move forward now and start the process of untangling all my dreams from the reality of the situation. So much of this, I created in my mind because I wanted to believe it so badly. That can’t be laid at your feet – that is all me. You are responsible for mixing the tonic; I am responsible for swallowing it whole. You are not going to remember how deeply I love you because you can’t possibly know, but I am. You’re not going to know what this cost me, but I am. It was worth it to me, just so you know, but I am not the same now. You are unchanged, I am not. I am a fool, so ready to surrender my life to the promise of love, while – clearly – you are not. That is a fact that can no longer be ignored. You love me, but not enough to let me go and now I make all the decisions for us because enough is enough.

I am not perfect, but I have worth. No one is going to hold me up as the standard of beauty or quote my words a hundred years from now, but I am smart. I am kind. I am loving and I am real. I am a dreamer, yes, but there are worse things. I am certain no one will ever love you like I do, but even more certain that I will never convince you of that. I am so lost without you, but more determined than ever to go and find myself again, if such a thing is even possible. Will I love that girl inside of me like I love you? I certainly hope so.

I am suffering. You are not. And therein lies the difference between us. You’re not losing any sleep over this, but I am. So, as I close myself off to all the beautiful possibilities that have kept me going for so long, I will try to hold on to my dignity and hide the grief over what will never be.

I am so sorry.

You’re not.

But I am.