I originally wrote and posted this on Facebook January 19,2013 @ 1:45am
3 Years out~ Just some rambling
Have you ever felt the burn, the pain in your chest? Holding a knife to your chest because that pain has to be better than this. Can you cut it out, rip it from your chest to get some relief? How dare he fight me for that knife, try to take control of this. He caused it. And now he suddenly doesn't want the blood on his hands? Trying to figure out where I went wrong and how much of the blame is really on my shoulders. What did he really expect would happen? Did he think I would just be okay with this? Yeah, sure, we're done. Let me just pack it all up and carry on. Did you forget who you were leaving? Was I suppose to make it easy for you? You may think she's all pretty, shiny and new. But she will get old too. I was "a lot of fun". Guess that those days are over now. Is that what growing up means to you? I was so drunk, waiting for you to come back home to me, even after I told you not to. I drove around looking for you, no way that I should have been out in my car. But you should have come home, you should have been there. Watching me fall apart, since you were the one who tore me down. "I've always loved you", you said to keep me from drinking more that day. You made love to me, telling me those words. How can you say that- feel that- and leave? I certainly don't know why I continue to put him on a pedestal-because he sure as hell doesn't deserve it. He's no hero, even though I continue to tell myself that. Heroes don't hurt you -heroes don't destroy and walk away. He's a coward, pure and simple. He chose the easy way out and instead of challenging himself, he left for something much more simple. I'm not perfect, I'm quite imperfect. But I'm a good person and love with all that I have. I'm not always responsible, but I feel responsibility to more than myself. I know he loved me, dare I say he still loves me. I know that. That's why this still hurts so much.
I can feel it crawling back in my head, the wondering, the doubt, the pain. It makes me anxious, my heart feeling like it's going to beat out of my chest. Do I drink it away, take a pill? My arms ache for some relief, cool metal cutting up my arm, drawing blood, the bloodletting. Let it out, like a breath, relax. Maybe that will be enough. The blood makes it real, people see the real pain. I know what they think. I think it too. Stupid. Obsessed. Weak. Paralyzed. Stuck. How much fight do I still have left in me? How do I even find me? What's it going to take to wake me from this nightmare? I want to drive too fast, drink too much, scream until my throat is raw and I can taste the blood. I want to cry, throw myself to the cold earth and pound my fists into the frozen dirt, bruising. When is it going to be ENOUGH? If I go numb from the cold, lungs aching from the chill, breathe it in, will it numb me to the pain? Will it drown out the thoughts, the memories, the remembering? Forget it all, pretend that it didn't happen, that we never met. As if forgetting half your life is that easy.
I've shown restraint. I have his phone number, haven't called, haven't texted. I know generally where they live. Haven't driven by, haven't gotten their address. I can drive by her old house without hyperventilating, without tears coming to my eyes. I know I won't see his Jeep there anymore. He replaced the Jeep just like he replaced me, with a newer model. No history there, no dirt, no scars.
I think I know why I want to run... I envision running and running, far from here, far from him. Where nothing reminds me of him, where no one speaks his name. Running until I'm dripping with sweat, legs shaking, drawing ragged breaths. Black it out, tunnel vision, see the light. Focused on outrunning the past, the pain, never looking back. It won't find me if I find a good place to hide. Running will make me smaller, less of a target. It won't recognize me. If I get that runners high, and I smile from a place that hasn't seen the light in a long time, the darkness will pass me by.
Breathe in, breathe out. Some days that's all I can do.
No Christine's were harmed in the making of this rant tonight.
3 Years out~ Just some rambling
Have you ever felt the burn, the pain in your chest? Holding a knife to your chest because that pain has to be better than this. Can you cut it out, rip it from your chest to get some relief? How dare he fight me for that knife, try to take control of this. He caused it. And now he suddenly doesn't want the blood on his hands? Trying to figure out where I went wrong and how much of the blame is really on my shoulders. What did he really expect would happen? Did he think I would just be okay with this? Yeah, sure, we're done. Let me just pack it all up and carry on. Did you forget who you were leaving? Was I suppose to make it easy for you? You may think she's all pretty, shiny and new. But she will get old too. I was "a lot of fun". Guess that those days are over now. Is that what growing up means to you? I was so drunk, waiting for you to come back home to me, even after I told you not to. I drove around looking for you, no way that I should have been out in my car. But you should have come home, you should have been there. Watching me fall apart, since you were the one who tore me down. "I've always loved you", you said to keep me from drinking more that day. You made love to me, telling me those words. How can you say that- feel that- and leave? I certainly don't know why I continue to put him on a pedestal-because he sure as hell doesn't deserve it. He's no hero, even though I continue to tell myself that. Heroes don't hurt you -heroes don't destroy and walk away. He's a coward, pure and simple. He chose the easy way out and instead of challenging himself, he left for something much more simple. I'm not perfect, I'm quite imperfect. But I'm a good person and love with all that I have. I'm not always responsible, but I feel responsibility to more than myself. I know he loved me, dare I say he still loves me. I know that. That's why this still hurts so much.
I can feel it crawling back in my head, the wondering, the doubt, the pain. It makes me anxious, my heart feeling like it's going to beat out of my chest. Do I drink it away, take a pill? My arms ache for some relief, cool metal cutting up my arm, drawing blood, the bloodletting. Let it out, like a breath, relax. Maybe that will be enough. The blood makes it real, people see the real pain. I know what they think. I think it too. Stupid. Obsessed. Weak. Paralyzed. Stuck. How much fight do I still have left in me? How do I even find me? What's it going to take to wake me from this nightmare? I want to drive too fast, drink too much, scream until my throat is raw and I can taste the blood. I want to cry, throw myself to the cold earth and pound my fists into the frozen dirt, bruising. When is it going to be ENOUGH? If I go numb from the cold, lungs aching from the chill, breathe it in, will it numb me to the pain? Will it drown out the thoughts, the memories, the remembering? Forget it all, pretend that it didn't happen, that we never met. As if forgetting half your life is that easy.
I've shown restraint. I have his phone number, haven't called, haven't texted. I know generally where they live. Haven't driven by, haven't gotten their address. I can drive by her old house without hyperventilating, without tears coming to my eyes. I know I won't see his Jeep there anymore. He replaced the Jeep just like he replaced me, with a newer model. No history there, no dirt, no scars.
I think I know why I want to run... I envision running and running, far from here, far from him. Where nothing reminds me of him, where no one speaks his name. Running until I'm dripping with sweat, legs shaking, drawing ragged breaths. Black it out, tunnel vision, see the light. Focused on outrunning the past, the pain, never looking back. It won't find me if I find a good place to hide. Running will make me smaller, less of a target. It won't recognize me. If I get that runners high, and I smile from a place that hasn't seen the light in a long time, the darkness will pass me by.
Breathe in, breathe out. Some days that's all I can do.
No Christine's were harmed in the making of this rant tonight.
