I’m Not Ready To Let You Go

They see me as untouchable, tenacious and independent but baby but when it comes to you, my thundering soul quiets into a tranquil whisper and my fervent fire fades to a subtle ember. In your presence, I surrender completely. At first, this was exciting, intoxicating even. Our love was incredible – it was deep and compelling, exhilarating and passionate. We had so much in common and got along so well, I was fucking positive we were soulmates.

I gave so much of myself to you, I didn’t doubt it for a moment.

But suddenly, you pulled away and I grew anxious. I was confused until I found out that you’d fallen for my best friend. It’d be easier if you did something to make me hate you. It’d be without question if you made it evident that you and I were finished. But we weren’t because you chose her but you still wanted me. And so, I clung desperately onto the frayed strings of hope that only barely held us together.

A once formidable woman had morphed into a pathetic lump of insecurity who hid her hurt behind a dopey grin. When you and her would come walking down the hallway together, I’d run back around the corner, pitifully trying to erase the images from my mind while simultaneously trying to stop myself from throwing up. I’d sit and wait for hours for your name to light up my screen and drown both my thoughts and pillowcase in you nightly. I continued ripping myself apart to offer you pieces of me, frantically trying to salvage what was left of us.

This isn’t how it should be.

I deserve more than you. I deserve more than being anyone’s second choice or plan B. I deserve someone who loves me all the time, someone who would count all the grains of sand on Bondi Beach, just so he could hold me in his arms for a little longer. That’s what you told me. That’s what you promised me.

I know that this is it and I know that I should stop. The thing is, I know I can stop. I know I’m more than capable of letting you go and getting on with my life. But I don’t want to. With every text that ends in an ‘x’, every knowing look we share from across the room and every seemingly innocent hug that lingers longer than it should, hope consumes me and I am convinced once again that we could be. That we should be. I need a definite signal. I need you to make a choice. I need you to let me go because I’m sure as hell not ready to let us go.