For the next 30 days, we will be working on the daily writing prompts by Bianca Sparacino which we find truly inspiring.
Because 7 and 10 are one and the same…
You made me pick up my pen and write again.
I gather our story and all the tiny pieces of memory we’ve woven and just hold them for a while. I have opened an old chronicle of happiness and pain. I met heartbreak again in the form of you—such a beautiful storm, you were.
This has been one of the hardest letters I’ve ever done because just writing it and seeing the words reflected on paper gives this separation a sense of finality. The End. We are over. So where do I place all the questions I carry? And why do you leave them unanswered? Why did you not fight for me?
Perhaps I will never know why. Perhaps I should stop asking. I need to pick up the fragmented pieces and continue dancing to the rhythm of life.
But allow me to speak the words left unsaid, at least on my part: I have loved you—every lovely, cracked pieces of you. Even if it felt like you were not ready to become vulnerable with me, I told myself I will wait for the time when you’ll finally be; when you’ll be able to choose me, too. I met you during a time when I wasn’t looking for anyone to love yet you came barging in and asked for my heart. I cannot help but willingly give it–the heart that I took care of and shielded from the pain for so many years–because you were just so charming and funny and mysterious. You made me feel like the most special girl. I wanted it to finally be you.
But you broke me. Because you cannot give me what I’ve been asking for from the get-go: Honesty. Vulnerability.
You will never know how many times I’ve cried myself to sleep and broke down in public: every time you refuse to see me; every time you do not reply to my messages; every time I feel like I’m not the only girl in your life; every time you refuse to put a label on whatever it is that’s going on between us.
I told you how I felt but every time it seemed like my feelings never even mattered. I’m sorry’s didn’t feel genuine. “I’lI make it up to you soon” never did come. I hated myself for being this way because I always knew that I deserve better. I became the kind of girl I swore I’ll never turn into: insecure, paranoid, and needs her affection validated.
Yet I endured your half-hearted attention because I thought it was better than none at all. Because I love you.
Just like any strong storm, you came and left abruptly. You hit and then you ran. But in your wake is massive devastation and I am left to make sense of the damaged parts.
I learned that the world did not stop for the girl with a broken heart.
So I needed to brush it off and make a mosaic out of those broken pieces. I needed to transform the pain into something else. I needed to be anywhere but here.
As much as I would like to move on (I’m trying so hard), it is difficult. I just cannot bring myself to forget everything because at one point you made me happy, ridiculously so.
As long as I love you, I am not free.
“This is what you get for putting your heart on your sleeve,” I tell myself sometimes. But to confront the feelings I’ve tried to bury and to open up old wounds have also been liberating. I needed to focus on the pain so that I could understand. Because that’s how life goes.
Darling, love is always love and I believe that what we had was real. Even without the labels and validation. This is not my first heartbreak but this might be the hardest one to date. If I’m lucky, I’d still have more of these in the future. Hopefully, it will all be worth it. This time, I hope he’ll stay.
I miss you. I still think about you sometimes. A part of me wants you to be the one to stay but I cannot force something to happen. This is me letting you go because I deserve so much better. Because I need to be happy. I want to.
Love may have bruised me but it will also be my saving grace.
The dust has settled.
I will be okay. I am made of sterner stuff, after all.
I pick up my pen and write again.
Now, it’s time to move on.
Words by Frances
Photo by Daria Nepriakhina