It took me a long time to sort things out in here. And just before I emerged from my thoughts, I passed through the darkest places I have been. Dark in that I pushed past the extent of my own insecurities, my own pettiness, the last vestiges of my selfish sense of love for you. I am not sure how I persevered, as the pain was so engrossing, so self-pitying, I was tempted to languish there, to lay in wait for you, to hurt you in proportion to the distorted image of my suffering. Instead, I resolved to break the pattern of my love logic and look at my heart and my feeling for you from a different perspective. Immediately, I was struck by the constricted thing I had called my heart.
From the moment I had met you, I felt what I knew to be love for you. Your face, your gestures, you kindness all called to me. When I eventually reached out to you and you returned my affection, I knew I was in love and that nothing before had felt warmer or so engrossing. And when you asked for all my heart, I thought I had given it to you openely and faithfully. But it wasn't my heart that I had given you - it was the sense of the love I felt from you wrapped haphazardly in the barbed-wire of my shallow, selfish needs. I am sure that you must have felt the love buried there at times, not even my worst insecurites could completely stifle it. This thing I buried in the cavity of my chest, and thought of as my heart.
As we travelled, as we embraced, as we laughed and cried, I pulled you closer ripping you open with the promise of the love beneath that you deserved. And as you bled, I believed it was you that had wounded me. I compounded that delusion by making you believe it was your fault, your lack of commitment that separated our hearts. I am so, so sorry.
I can blame my history, I guess, for this pathetic concept of love. If there had ever been a functioning heart there, it was most likely beaten out of me before my first failed attempts at intimacy and love. But that is no excuse, as I always knew that my relationships were not doomed by my tragic choice of partners. I knew it was me and my selfish, stunted desires. I probably had no business touching your belly, kissing your forehead all those years ago. Despite my issues, you gave your love to me. A testament to the beautiful soul I tried to embrace so awkwardly.
I should have loved your need for privacy, your concern for the real obstacles the world confronted us with. Instead of respecting you, I let that weed-like wire wrap itself tighter around my love, the barbs biting both ways, piercing me, tearing you apart, all in the name of my martyrdom. I did the impossible, I took your unconditional love and impaled it on my own pity and insecurity. I see that now.
But I have done that which I could never do, I have cut that wire and released my love for you. It is no longer tangled with my needs, my desperate desire to keep you, my vain attempts to possess you. I must confess it hurt, pulling those prongs from my heart, but it also feels good in a way I never expected. I am no longer worried about my heart, just warming myself with a true love for you that is not confined by my ego or my expectations for your return. The thought of another man cupping your breast, even being held closely in there by you no longer rips me apart. The pain has been replaced by a genuine hope that you are loved as you deserve to be.
I hope you feel that now, that you understand that no matter what happens to you, you are deeply and truly loved, no matter how far we move apart, no matter how many years between a conversation. I hope you close your eyes at night and know that my love is with you, tenderly watching over you as if I was there, perched on an elbow marvelling in your beauty. I pray that you feel this, no matter what difficulties you face, regardless how alone you might feel. At any moment, know that my thoughts are with you, and that my new heart is warmed by the thought of you smiling. This love is yours, always.
I won't blame you if you doubt the sincerity of this note, or my intentions. Until you do, I can only content myself with this new feeling. My memories of you no longer haunt me as losses or squandered love. I smile and appreciate the experiences, knowing how lucky I was then and that you must have a few nice thoughts too. My self-induced trauma is gone, I am happy.
Yours,
Michael
You are loved so much Michael.
ReplyDelete:)
ReplyDelete