I’m Not Supposed to Call You.
I know I’m not. But there are so many times when I’ve wanted to.
I’m not supposed to think about what you said, that day, and the many before, but I do. Those words still haunt my waking thoughts and some nights, still control my sleeping ones.
Its true what they say you know, some words never leave you, and after awhile, really do become your inner voice, no matter your age.
I’m not supposed to call you a danger. But that is how my body reacts after so many years of being conditioned for fight or flight. I suppose I can thank you for that. My instincts are sharp and my reflexes are strong because of you.
I’m not supposed to think about you. I know its not safe, and yet I find my thoughts drifting back to you so often. I allow the softer, kinder, loving moments to whisper in my ear, and for a moment, I forget the others. But only just a moment. Then, as if by some cruel joke, my mind lurches me back into the present, suffocating any softening with the twisted up, hardened scars that are seared into my memory and burned into my heart.
I’m not supposed to call you a monster. Simultaneously, my jaw tightens, my nose tingles and my eyes begin to water at the thought of seeing you again. And at the thought of never seeing you again. You’re not, you know. Please know that. But my heart has a hard time reminding my head that your not. That your ill.
I’m not supposed to call you. But I do. A thousand times a day, every day, for years now. My heart calls out to you. Its the most primal longing I can assume exists. But then, my mind loops back to that day, over and over again daring me to ever forget, even for a second. Even as I write this, it just occurred to me, the day is here again. Two relationships so important to me, one celebrated, one extinguished on the same day, forever intertwined; joy and heartache.
Here I am, caught between two truths. One I was born into, and the other I gave life to. Two roles with the same title. One I’ve been to you, when you should have always been to me. That day I chose them, mine.
They won’t ever call you. I’m sorry. It hurts to say as much as it hurts to live through it all over again, and live into the future without you. It hurts when my heart wants to have what its never had, so many times. Selflessness from the one who always should be. But it never came. Like looking for a beacon in the dark I waited, searched in the blackness lost, hoping one day you’d be there with an apology, with an answer, bigger than words.
But I could wait an eternity and still be lost.
And so, because there was no choice, I called. Upon my own strength instead. To light my way and lead me in. I should thank you for making me strong.
I’m not supposed to call you, but if I did it would be to tell you I’m grateful, for it all. I’d rather be a little worn, with wounds that are deep but scarred over, and with an inner voice that can be soothed, than where you left me that day.
So, I’m not supposed to call you.
But truly I would, if I could.