Lithium

Kiddo,
I've written blog after blog about you. I've loved you and loved you (even though at times I didn't know I did). We shared a common heartbreak, we helped each other through it- I made you laugh and you kept me smiling. Being together, being us, loving eachother wasn't easy or right. It destroyed both of us, at different times but with the same crippling severity. I'd like to say we were strong enought to with stand it-but we weren't. Actually, you were strong enough; I was scared. I was running away from you then and I still haven't stopped, but now I'm trying to escape your memory; I'm trying to escape that eternal summer of pure happiness (but I'm continulously relishing the bittersweet moments of sunshine).

But not everything was my fault, I do know that. You lied to me. You said you would wait for me, you promised me we'd always be friends, you said you'd always answer my questions and hold your ams out to me when I needed them. Oh my love, my refuge, my light; I've lost you. Have you purposely pushed me out of your heart into this lonely purgatory? Was my crime so unforgivable, so absolute and omnious- that it could not be cast aside and forgiven? Your nothing but a stranger to me now: a phantom with a mask. I look at you now and try to see glimpses of the boy I loved. When I see them, they are precious and fleeting; shimmering miniature suns, that illuminate and enchant the world, and then as if suddenly growing tired of such and unworthy audience, shrink into the bleak ochre night.

I hate it when I see you walking down the hall. Your back towards me as you get smaller and smaller, moving farther and farther away. I imagine I'm running as if to catch you, to stop you, to speak your name, to let my voice free you. But I know in my heart that you are to far away to be caught. You're gone and thats all there is too it. It's over. It's been over.

But tell me, does she make you laugh like I did? Do her brown eyes catch the light the way mine did? Does she challenge you, or is it easy to love her? Does she understand you? If you discarded her, would her heart break with the same overwhelming pain as mine did? Would you take the time to save her, like you saved me? Is she more or less than I was?

The answers to those questions are empty nonetheless. You picked her, when you could have picked me. You must become the same to me, that I am to you and that is nothing. I must forget you entirely. Regardless of what we shared in the past, I must move on and I will. This is goodbye. I should have said it a long time ago. You will not be apart of my life. I am tired. I have nothing left to say, you have taken my words.

-Whit