She came to me in tears one day.
I had never seen her in this way, so shattered. But life has taken her down now. The cause? Love. Cruel to her as it is to all of us, Love had battered her down this time like never before. And so she came to me, a skeleton of her former self, reduced to near-emptiness and wondering what to do, how to break free.
She was strong once, but now she was so weak. And she told me of him. She told me of all of them. The ones who came before and how it all had led to this.
“What’s wrong with me?” she asked.
“Why do I always end up here? I’m like a shadow, only half-real. And the strangest part is that he loves me, oh how he loves me. I know it’s true. But how can he love me and only want me to be half-real? It’s just too cruel…”
She didn’t come here for love, but she did come on the promise of friendship. She had thought she would have him to rely on, but he had left her disappointed. Still, she chose to have faith, chose understanding. She did not want to give up on him. She would be his friend, she would try to help him.
“That’s how it had started the last time, too,” she said. “That’s how it always starts. That’s how I’m always fooled.”
She told me of a man she had left behind. A man from a past life, from a past world. She told me how he had sought her company in the depravity of his own love and, finding solace in her, took it further. She was a half-willing participant in the illusion then, believing what he said about a future together. Believing that she could somehow help him find clarity. Believing that she could help him heal his life. But he did not want to heal, and she left that relationship more broken than she had ever been before.
“I thought it was different this time, in this place.” She shakes her head, and I can see her anguish. “I didn’t think it would be that way.”
After all, this time he had offered to help her.
As they grew closer, he leaned on her more and more. And she enjoyed being leaned on, being someone who could help him, too. They supported each other, albeit in different ways. Eventually, love grew. Once more, she believed that they were headed toward a future together. But that vision started to fade. More and more, she saw the subtle untruths, the delicate manipulations. She realized how much of the support he gave was conditional. Still, she tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. To talk to him, to understand his reality and let him see hers. But he would not see it, would not acknowledge those quiet lies. And she was left to simply walk away, feeling somewhat betrayed, and awfully ashamed.
The next was quite some time after that. She had been in and out of other romances, but nothing had filled her heart with that warm glow of love for which she so longed. She had been in and out of friendships, too, and she was realizing how fleeting it all seemed to be here. Like no one could actually be bothered to care for one another. No deep connection ever made.
“But he was different,” she said.
Again, a friend at first. Someone who shared her passions, her enthusiasm for life. They could talk for hours and she could really feel heard. They shared that platonic closeness for years before anything more ever came. And again, she hadn’t expected it, although maybe she should have.
Still, it was different than before. He told her no lies, made her no promises. His love was pure. Perhaps his situation, too, was different. But she couldn’t really be sure.
“It’s all so mixed up, all so confusing.”
The hopelessness in her eyes broke my heart. I realized, looking into them, just how alone she felt. And I could feel that same loneliness echoed in my soul, as well.
“Why must I love someone like this. He is everything to be, but I am never to be more than a skeleton in his closet.”
And as her tears fell down, my own fell, too. I had no answer for her then. And no answer for myself. Only that aching feeling of helplessness, that there’s nothing I can do.
