nightlife

there’s a sadness that lives in my chest.

you’re a knockout, he said.

and I felt every little piece of me crumble.

the love of my life has come in and out of my world four times. we have picked up pieces and packed up memories. we have said our hellos and goodbies so many times I forget how to mourn the loss anymore. I’ve said goodbye and I’ve asked him to stay away, finally. I’ve asked him to stop coming in and out of my life if he isn’t prepared to love me indefinitely, unconditionnally. I am incapable of giving myself only to have nothing in return, anymore. loving him was the loneliest I’d felt in years, and every night as we slept, I could feel him drifting away.

I love you, but

I love you isn’t enough. love should never be enough.

happiness has always been an uphill battle for me. I wake up broken every single day and it takes everything out of me to put my pieces back together only to fall asleep and have to start over again. I am aware of this. I work on this very, very hard. I absorb other people’s pain so they don’t have to, but I can’t save everyone. I can’t love someone who doesn’t love themselves.

I have come a long way.

I’ve built a home out of a tiny little house. it’s lonely, it’s quiet. it smells like coconuts, and I wrap my faux fur blanket tightly around me to stay warm, in the evening. the air is cold these days, and the french doors that lead to the balcony aren’t insulated. but I haven’t felt a peace like this for a long time. I haven’t felt safe or free until now. until I said goodbye, forever this time, and felt the weight lift from my shoulders, from my heart, from my home. I loved him, I did. but in loving him, there was a very palpable, very dark cloud looming above me, and it exhausted me to wake up to him every day. I know this, now. I understand the weight of my sadness, finally.

when I look back and think of the sound of his belly laughs as we lay on the couch, or the way his voice sounded when he told me I was beautiful, it hurts. it hurts in a way I was not at all prepared to hurt. I miss our drives out of the city, and drinking coffee in cafes, or how safe it felt to fall apart in his arms. but a very important person once told me I had to stop looking for happiness in the same place I’d lost it. fuck, that person is smart. and thank goodness for them because had I not had a safe place to run to, I’m not sure I could have made it out when I did.

I’m still learning so much.

I’m learning that it’s okay to walk away if it doesn’t feel right. that I have the right to demand what I want for me in this life, and to feel confident in turning my back on it if it isn’t. I should never compromise my happiness because I’m afraid of starting over for the millionth time.

2014 was a big year for me. I’d experienced more loss in twelve months than I have my whole life. I have to stop blaming myself for that. I wouldn’t take any of it back. I never knew love like this. it was real, and it was intense, and it ripped me apart- and my god, was it ever worth it. I have a better sense of self, and more clarity. I feel good, and strong, and able. I loved with every ounce of me, and found the courage to leave when it became toxic. if my past has taught me anything, it’s to acknowledge the strength I have inside of me, and to not ever let someone dim my shine.

don’t dim my fucking shine.

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One thought on “nightlife

  1. “I should never compromise my happiness because I’m afraid of starting over for the millionth time.”

    Ugh. This.
    You hit the nail on the head.

    Never dim your fucking shine, you deserve the moon and all of the stars.

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