polyamory (pt. II)
I miss you.
I miss the way you laugh, the way you held me close in the middle of the night. I miss the way our bodies felt together, mixing and matching one another in the darkness, uncovering things about ourselves we never thought possible. I miss the vulnerability.
It wasn’t real.
Whenever I try to tell myself I could have prevented this, I get all sorts of messed up. I can’t seem to comprehend the puzzle in my head; mazes stacked wildly in my mind, providing the most intricate of all labyrinths to my reasoning as to why I left. I felt like I had to, but it is never that simple. It couldn’t be.
I learned more about myself in one week, one year with you than I have in an entire lifetime. The possibilities were limitless—with you, I could be anything, achieve anything, believe anything. I was boundless.
As I sit at my laptop and reflect all that has happened, little wisps of memories float in and out of my ears, manifesting right in front of me. I see our bodies colliding over dampened earth, under the stars, your breathing heavy and skin soaked with salty dew. I envision us dancing in the rain, outside where the sun is setting, the sky crying subtly and casting gilded drops of water over the landscape of our homeland. I remember you. I remember what it was like to love you, and to be loved. We were beautiful.
I also remember the pain associated with us. I close my eyes for a second in this wilted room at my desk and inhale slowly, taking in all the faded paint, cracked walls, and dust in one breath. I breathe out just as slowly…
And then the pain washes over me.
It’s heavy, like an ocean. I allow myself to be sucked into the current — human flesh slapped around, contorted, water rushing into my lungs. I feel the power of the azure element taking control. She chewed me up and spit me out. My heart cries and I lose myself in the discourse.
So many arguments, so many fights. So many stupid details that seemed so large and important then, now actualized into faded bitterness comprised of trivial pieces of information. Nothing matters now like it did before. Why did it bother me so much then?
As bad as it was at times, it was also so good. It was real. I didn’t care about the ups and downs so much. As long as you were by my side, I could conquer all. I believed.
“Water teaches us acceptance. Let your emotions flow like water.”
People ask me why I live my life by this quote. It has become not only my mantra, but a way of life. I came to terms with the fact I am an empath and I cannot avoid the act of feeling. When it comes, it comes full throttle, whether that is sadness or moments of ecstasy. I used to fight my soul, fight off the urge to cry or become deeply attached to anything I felt was remotely uncertain in terms of security. Bruce Lee once said, “Be formless, like water.” He advised adaptability, the ability to be malleable, impressionable, in a position of ever-learning. We are not static creatures; humans are dynamic, colorful, and full of personality. I am not restricted to a box and neither are my feelings. I used to be afraid to feel. I’m not afraid anymore.
I miss you. In fact, I miss you a lot. I wonder if you still think of me, if you still believe in me. I wonder if you miss me, too. I’m growing without you… it is painful, but necessary. I felt so suppressed, stifled, unable to blossom into who I am today. Turns out all of that was just a fucked up phase of growing anyway.
We were barefoot. I remember my feet skipping over the ground, soil in between my toes. The rain was coming down fast.
I remember running away. Feeling a thousand years go by without a single trace, a single thought, of the time. Minutes upon minutes, hours upon hours. It didn’t matter how long I loved you that night — the time felt like an eternity. I was young; I had no fucking idea what the world consisted of, no clue as to its meaning, or how I fit into that definition. I still don’t. Shit.
In the event that I pass away unexpectedly, please understand that I gave my all. I gave everything away, forgot to leave something for myself. When you left, I had to start from scratch. I chose to rebuild and recreate alone, make something of myself without your influence… without your love, your presence. I wasn’t living before.
Now, I choose to live.