I know you’ll never see this, so it’s safe for me to say that I miss you sometimes.
These days, more often than not, it’s more like I just really wonder how you’re doing. How life’s treating you and how you’re treating it. Have things gotten better for you? How is your family? How do you feel? Are you happy?
But I don’t stay with these thoughts for too long. Before, I couldn’t help it. But now I can. So I don’t.
I see almost every day the lasting effect you had on me. I’m not saying there weren’t good, beautiful moments in our time together, but they were always in between some big blow out, some big scandal, or some thoughtless action. And now I haven’t spoken to you in months or seen you in person in almost a year, but you’re still with me in little things. Little big things. Like how I look at myself in the mirror. My appearance, my weight, all of it.
Yesterday I was driving on the interstate when I had what was very similar to a heart attack. My heart beat was uncontrollable, my eyes felt like they were dilated, my ears felt tingly and my head felt airy, my hands were shaking pretty badly and my legs started to feel strange too. There was a moment that I definitely had the thought, “Should I be calling 911?” It was terrifying, and it lasted on and off for over an hour.
When I finally got to my destination, the woman I was going to see dropped everything to take care of me, to reassure me, to calm me down. We had a long conversation about what was happening, why it was happening, and it didn’t take long for me to start crying.
I’m going to jump to the point. My heart went crazy because of these pills I started taking. I started taking the pills for a number of reasons, but I bet you more than anything, you were somewhere down there at the root. You, your standards, the lies you thought it’d be okay to build my trust on, and the way I felt like I’d never be enough for you no matter how much you told me I would be.
And it’s not worth a heart attack. It’s not worth that fear.
So I still love you, a lot, because apparently I can’t help that, and there is a lot in you to love. Honestly. So I hope you’re doing well. I hope you’re living and learning and loving and growing like I have in the last 5 months, but I think I’m going to spend a little less time hoping that you’re okay and a little more time making sure that I am.
If we meet again in the future, maybe you’re right about this Kismet thing. But kismet or not, I’m going to love myself first. Nothing is going to get in the way of that.