The tears dry. Maybe not as fast I’d like, but they do. It’s hard to speak, to try to compose any sound efficiently. But, as my internal wounds heal, I start to wonder, was the pain I caused him any less than the pain I caused myself? I love him so, but we can never be. Why, in a time of need, did I abandon him? How could such a monster become…me? Something sickening is about to burst from within my heart. I feel the need to implode upon others, to be the monstrosity that I am. Creating words to magnify my suffering, to show how weak I must be. I never wanted this, I didn’t want to fall in love with two people, and I never needed their love, until now. I must be rearranging what happened. Am I twisting the words that come from my mouth? I’m blaming someone who doesn’t deserve to feel their own pain, not needing extra weight from stupid aching memories…of us. The rawness of my throat, the intensity of my tears, I drag this on and on, but for some unfathomable reason, I don’t stop. I don’t stop the anger, his tender, aching, sun-dried heart. The heart that I filled with light, then took away its source. I was his sun, but not anymore, I become the eclipse, seemingly momentary darkness, that will never be forgotten.
But we try to move on, right?