Ramblings of my broken heart.

I just need to keep walking away from all of it. The pain, in which there is no end in sight. The betrayal. The constant obsessing over images I’ve conjured up in my mind about what was going on behind closed doors. The agony. The patheticness of blaming myself and asking what I should have done differently. If I just keep walking, it will create distance between myself and the memories. The memories, they are too much to bear. The songs that trigger a reaction. The love of my life, gone. He is not who I thought he was. If I keep walking, pretty soon I won’t be able to see him. He will be a speck in the road. If I walk long enough, hopefully there will be nothing left of me. 

If I just keep walking. 

And I don’t know who I’m going to talk to about the random numbers I see that remind me of him.. Or who will laugh with my stories of clumsiness. Or who will get me. 

And I pray to all that is holy that there is mercy on me, so that no one shares with me the gossip they’ve heard, or the rumors or the events that actually took place. I don’t want to know. I can’t know and I pray that no one gives me that one more detail that will send me over the edge even deeper into this pit of raw despair. 

I beg for mercy that the obsessive thoughts disappear. Why wasn’t I enough? What did I do wrong? Why didn’t he love me like he said he did? I must have deserved this. 

No. No, I did not deserve this. Because all I did was love him with everything I had. I did not betray him. I wanted to make him happy. My ride or die. Us, always. I would have never done this. I did not do this. 

I fall apart again, hoping no one notices I’ve been gone so long.  I desperately want him to reach out to me because he should know that that is what I need at this moment. He knows me so well, better than anyone. Can’t he feel it? That I need him, right now. Something, anything. We’re connected. 

The sadness is making room for rage now. It is ugly, this rage. And it scares me. I imagine she made him feel like the rockstar he wishes he could be. He loves a good ego trip. That high meant more to him than I did. 

I need to know, what was he thinking? What was he thinking? I obsess over this. But I know that there isn’t an explanation that can save us. Because the more important issue here is what he didn’t think about. Me. That is all that matters. He did not think of me. And that tells me all that I need to know. 

So I will cry some more. I will rage. I will self medicate. I’ll become numb. I will feel sorry for myself. I will lash out. I will collapse. I’ll lay there for a while. I’ll self-destruct and become someone unrecognizable. I will hate myself. 

This must be rock bottom. 

The lies and denials that I wanted so badly to believe, are long gone. I know the truth. And in a weird way, the truth might have set me free. Because when I didn’t really know, my heart was still held together with stitches, not fully breaking open. But now, it is split in half. It is wide open. And now I pray that the light gets in. Because the darkness has overcome me. So I keep walking until the old me, the dark me is gone. And I pray for the light.