Six Years

Unedited, because I have a feeling if I try to I might end up deleting the whole thing.

Six years ago, today marked a new beginning and I didn’t quite see it back then. I guess it marked your own as well. You had plans to impress, I had plans to survive, and though we were lost and confused, almost as much as we are now, you gave me a present… both a blessing and a curse wrapped with a bow on top that took my breath away and gave it back to me with a surging pain. When I touched the corners of you, I realized how burnt I was. When I held the edges I heard every word you never said, every secret you never shared, every breath you breathed. I held your presence in my arms, a weight too large to carry and watched myself give way. I crashed, burnt and came down with a show. A show that attracted a small audience.. that cheered me and asked me to stand back up, and a much larger audience that asked you to keep pushing. I didn’t know what I was dealing with – there was no time to think, and having trusting you more than I’ve ever trusted myself I believed you, even when you said I was the criminal and you were the victim. I accepted your lie because with you, there was no such thing. I sold my soul for you, because that’s what you wanted me to do.. and to this day, I haven’t been able to afford it back. So, it lies there somewhere thrown away and trampled, once tendered to, then tampered with and thrown when it wasn’t important to you anymore. I’ve been saving my pride and collecting the pieces of ego I threw away hoping there’d come a day when I can buy my soul back but it turns out six years has still not given me enough time to collect it all. Still too expensive for what I am now. The only person who could have afforded it for me now sits behind a screen reading these words and wondering who these words are for. If only you knew, if only.

Like the poems I wrote for you back then, I write no more. Unread letters, thousands of them rest in sealed envelopes in a box addressed to you. I could send every one of them to you but they won’t mean a thing to you now. We’ve come a long way from that sunny day in November. I had so many questions for you, but I asked none… because I was afraid of what I’d hear. I still wonder what your answers to those questions would be and I still don’t think I want to know. Somehow that day, though it was only a glimpse of you that I saw as you hurried with a bunch of people flocking around you, as you held your head down and your lips turned down, I remember how hard I tried to avoid you. I wasn’t at all in the mood to catch up with the gifted story telling nature of yours but I bet you didn’t want to talk to me either. I remember so clearly how you walked away from the crowd you were gathering and left the people speechless and gaping at you. I remember how I was one of them.

I don’t know what you thought that day… if we could make it out alive or if you thought I wouldn’t. Maybe you didn’t give it much thought at all, because when I think about it now, I’m just as confused as I was that day. Just as shocked, just as lost… and all this time I’ve been preparing myself to answer the questions they could possibly ask me and I know nothing more now than I did that day. You, it turns out, have something special in leaving people speechless. Maybe that’s why I still write about you. To fill in to all the things I would have said to you if I could.

It turns out that six years didn’t change much… I’ve worn a shield since then, impenetrable by all but you. I’ve taken my mind on trips with no return hoping they’d lead me to you. I thought I’d know the answers by now, but I don’t know yet. I’d ask you, but I’m still not sure what I want to hear. Six years, everything has changed and yet nothing has changed.

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