02/12/11 (2)

People think the nights are the worst,
and yes, they are terrible;
I can feel the absence of you in the space next to me,
and the deafening silence of you not breathing,
and the cold where your limbs should be wrapped around mine,
and I reach with my foot to find yours, but of course, it isn’t there.
But the worst, the absolute worst moment,
is just after that second where I wake up and the pain has been smoothed over in the relief of sleep; 
where dreams of reconciliation play out, or maybe no dreams at all,
where suddenly consciousness opens the doorway for realisation, which comes flying in at such a pace that it actually smacks me full on in the chest,
a huge wall of unrelenting misery, unbearable pain, aching loneliness, overwhelming longing, and unforgiving anguish, 
filling up my body, pulsing through my veins, weighing down my chest with the knowledge that I am left with a cavernous hole in my life, a gaping wound in my heart, and the screaming of every fibre of my being yearning for you.

27/11/12

I am hovering on the border between life and death. 
I am not living, but merely existing in darkness; in misery.
I want to make the feelings end, for the pain to stop, for this unbearable anguish to dissipate. Only one person can do that for me, and since they won’t, then living is not an option.

But I don’t want to die: I fear the nothingness of death, and I fear missing the possible change of events that could mean our reconciliation. Death would also mean causing the unbearable grief that I feel now on many others, yet they would not have the hope of a reunion that I do, since there would be no bringing me back.

And so I live in limbo, which is more of an existence than a life: breathing, carrying out a few daily tasks that I can manage, moving through life with no attention paid to time, for time has no meaning when you are carrying the thick, crushing waves of loneliness, loss, and longing inside of you.

It should not be this way when two people love each other so, when two people care and share as we did, when two people carry around a part of each other within their hearts. It is not right, and the decision was messy, unprepared, confused, and an entanglement of misdirected emotions. Open your eyes, whilst I am still waiting (I will always be waiting).

22/11/12 (2)

I really want to talk to you now,
and tell you,
how my day has been and how the rain keeps making my feet cold,
to ask you what have you been up to,
and to tell you what I am thinking of baking next
and how you’d love the mince pies my dad has bought for us,
and how I will save you one,
and how I cannot wait, to see you next 
to hold you, to kiss you, and to tell you that I love you,
but,
although I love you more than anyone could ever love anyone,
and although you love me too,
you let me go and,
I cannot tell you, how much I miss you, how much I need you,
how I long for your touch, and your voice, and your love,
every second of every hour of every day,
and how it is killing me inside, 
every second of every hour of ever day. 

20/11/12

My experience of the world has numbed; become blurred, like I myself am not really here, just going through the motions of being alive, but carrying around a heavy, heavy misery within me. Then there are the frequent bursts of white hot pain in my chest, under my skin, inside my skull, some that I push forcefully back inside, and others that escape me in drawn out cries and anguish that I cannot bear, until my body shuts down my mind again and returns me to that hollow, aching state that allows me to exist in my misery (I don’t want to exist in this misery).

18/11/12

Even the air smells like you and you’re everywhere in the atmosphere: in the sunlight coming through the trees, in the walk from mine into town, in the warmth of my bedroom, in the empty space in my bed. 

I feel like you belong in them, and you ripped yourself away. Now all that is left is a pressure in my chest that reminds me that you were, such a short time ago, here.