SpeedLimit55
Bluelighter
If you're reading this, please humor me and finish it. Chances are, if you're reading this, you played a part in getting me to this point.
Most of you know about my Ex and I...
Saturday, August 12th, 1998:
We stood on a small bridge overlooking a crystal clear waterfall. Children could be heard laughing and screaming in the background.
We had been seeing each other for several months. I had fallen in love a few weeks prior, but was far too scared to admit it.
Her hand in mine, we walked in the direction of the setting sun. This day was so surreal...so wonderful that it coudln't be true. I imagined what the viewer was thinking...the viewer of this painting...this painting I was standing in...so harmonious, so perfect in every way, I turned behind me, half expecting to see a couple, staring into the painting of our lives.
Staring across the quiet brook, I turned her way to ask a question...I was interrupted:
"I Love You".
Silence. Chills. The crescendo of my heartbeat screaming in my head. Surely I mis-understood her.
Finally...closure...standing in this Garden of Eden, closure came to me with a kiss.
We didn't talk much that day. There wasn't much to be said. We just...lived. We just...loved. For the first time ever I had heard those fabled words, and I was alive.
Over the next 2 years it was the American Dream. Sure we had our fights, our problems, but even Adam and Eve contended with the devil...
...and like Adam and Eve we lost.
Hurling through an endless downward spiral our fairy tell love came to a screaching hault.
...And closure came in a nightmare...
Skipping all the lonely nights, the solitary fits of screaming rage...the nights and the days blending in an endless cycle of torment...we come to February, 2001.
I'll not bore you with the details, as I won't give this incident that much respect.
In short: She gave up. She couldn't deal with her assigned demons. She couldn't deal with the fact that pain is real, tears are not just for joy, and sometimes things just hurt.
With one short phonecall I was sent back to the depths of hell. She had taken her life. She quit. She gave up. She sent a giant "FUCK YOU" to all of us.
...and closure came from hell...
When I first 'lost' her, I had pain. When I 'lost' her the second time, there was no pain. Pain was a step up from the place I was. Hopelessness *WAS* my silver lining. I YEARNED for the day when I could just be 'sad'.
For many, many months since then I've been haunted by her voice, her face, her touch.
If you've read this far, then this applies to you:
You carried me. You pushed me, you pulled me and you shoved me. You showed me that following in her steps was not an option. You proved to me that I am worth it...but most of all...you *showed* me that *we* are worth it.
You befriended a stranger.
You carried the burden of a lost soul.
Last night, like so many other nights, I went to bed thinking of her. Trying to convince myself that she is real.
Last night was different.
As I drifted off into the peace of solitude, I was greeted...it was her.
She drifted toward me on a cloud of relief.
We shook hands, we hugged, we said hello into each others ear. I pulled back, with tears in my eyes...
"Why", I started to say.
She took me by the hand and showed me a painting. The painting was entitled "August 12, 1998".
We sat on that bridge again, holding hands, laughing, looking at the children, remembering.
She explained to me so many things...answered so many questions I was too afraid to ask.
Then she said goodbye. I finally got to say goodbye. We hugged, expressed our love without words, touched each others heart, and parted ways.
...and closure came in a dream...
- - - - - - - -
The languate I speak doesn't allow me to express the depth of gratitude I feel to you, my family.
You know my deepest, darkest secrets, yet you love me.
You've carried me through storms when neither of us could see.
Through all the pain and tears, through all the joy and laughter, you've taken me in. You've loved me like no one else ever could.
I *love* you. You have saved me.
I *love* you.
Most of you know about my Ex and I...
Saturday, August 12th, 1998:
We stood on a small bridge overlooking a crystal clear waterfall. Children could be heard laughing and screaming in the background.
We had been seeing each other for several months. I had fallen in love a few weeks prior, but was far too scared to admit it.
Her hand in mine, we walked in the direction of the setting sun. This day was so surreal...so wonderful that it coudln't be true. I imagined what the viewer was thinking...the viewer of this painting...this painting I was standing in...so harmonious, so perfect in every way, I turned behind me, half expecting to see a couple, staring into the painting of our lives.
Staring across the quiet brook, I turned her way to ask a question...I was interrupted:
"I Love You".
Silence. Chills. The crescendo of my heartbeat screaming in my head. Surely I mis-understood her.
Finally...closure...standing in this Garden of Eden, closure came to me with a kiss.
We didn't talk much that day. There wasn't much to be said. We just...lived. We just...loved. For the first time ever I had heard those fabled words, and I was alive.
Over the next 2 years it was the American Dream. Sure we had our fights, our problems, but even Adam and Eve contended with the devil...
...and like Adam and Eve we lost.
Hurling through an endless downward spiral our fairy tell love came to a screaching hault.
...And closure came in a nightmare...
Skipping all the lonely nights, the solitary fits of screaming rage...the nights and the days blending in an endless cycle of torment...we come to February, 2001.
I'll not bore you with the details, as I won't give this incident that much respect.
In short: She gave up. She couldn't deal with her assigned demons. She couldn't deal with the fact that pain is real, tears are not just for joy, and sometimes things just hurt.
With one short phonecall I was sent back to the depths of hell. She had taken her life. She quit. She gave up. She sent a giant "FUCK YOU" to all of us.
...and closure came from hell...
When I first 'lost' her, I had pain. When I 'lost' her the second time, there was no pain. Pain was a step up from the place I was. Hopelessness *WAS* my silver lining. I YEARNED for the day when I could just be 'sad'.
For many, many months since then I've been haunted by her voice, her face, her touch.
If you've read this far, then this applies to you:
You carried me. You pushed me, you pulled me and you shoved me. You showed me that following in her steps was not an option. You proved to me that I am worth it...but most of all...you *showed* me that *we* are worth it.
You befriended a stranger.
You carried the burden of a lost soul.
Last night, like so many other nights, I went to bed thinking of her. Trying to convince myself that she is real.
Last night was different.
As I drifted off into the peace of solitude, I was greeted...it was her.
She drifted toward me on a cloud of relief.
We shook hands, we hugged, we said hello into each others ear. I pulled back, with tears in my eyes...
"Why", I started to say.
She took me by the hand and showed me a painting. The painting was entitled "August 12, 1998".
We sat on that bridge again, holding hands, laughing, looking at the children, remembering.
She explained to me so many things...answered so many questions I was too afraid to ask.
Then she said goodbye. I finally got to say goodbye. We hugged, expressed our love without words, touched each others heart, and parted ways.
...and closure came in a dream...
- - - - - - - -
The languate I speak doesn't allow me to express the depth of gratitude I feel to you, my family.
You know my deepest, darkest secrets, yet you love me.
You've carried me through storms when neither of us could see.
Through all the pain and tears, through all the joy and laughter, you've taken me in. You've loved me like no one else ever could.
I *love* you. You have saved me.
I *love* you.
