Lost Apart

TW: suicidal ideation

Betrayal is a sickening feeling, yet missing someone surpasses any other. And watching the one you love- the one you’ve loved from the very beginning and still love- love someone else more, tears you down and kills you inside. When a heart breaks it will never, truly be the same. Even after years of trying to put all of the shattered pieces of your heart back together, you lose some pieces along the way. No matter how hard you try to heal, you will never fail to retain the hole in the center your heart.  

I, Delayla June Crawford, have tried to shake that feeling, brush it off, let it go, not think about it, but the tattoo on my outer wrist reminds me every day of who I once thought was my soulmate and how much I still love him. There is no possible way to hide the permanent marking on my wrist of the initials D for Delayla and C for Colby with a heart in between. And every time I cast a glance at my wrist, which is often enough, flashbacks of the day we got engaged straight out of high school to the time we got matching initial tattoos to the time he told me he was in love with someone else and filed for a divorce, and all the memories in between. The happy memories, the downright sad memories, the funny ones, and the romantic ones; they all made my eyes well up with tears now. 

As if the tattoo on my wrist isn’t enough, Annie, my only daughter, has sprouted into the spitting image of a feminine version of Colby, another reminder that he is still her father and my ex-husband. Annie grew up in a picture-perfect family as the spoiled little daughter, up until she turned thirteen. Now she has to live her teenage years only visiting her dad one day a month. I try to set a good example for Annie, to stay strong and prove to Colby that we don’t need him. It takes effort, but for Annie’s sake, I tell myself that I don’t need Colby either.  

Rumor has it, Colby’s single again, yet no matter how much I am still in love with him, I wouldn’t dare contact him after what he’s done. If he had change of heart, he could make the first move. I would surely pick up the phone if he called, but long ago, he made it clear that he didn’t want me, so why would I even waste my time hoping, let alone making the first move. I guess you could consider me as stubborn as a bull.  

— 

The name Colby Crawford, has no meaning to me anymore. As long as I feel this way, guilty, sorrowful, alone, regretful, the name will mean absolutely nothing. Before, I had nothing against my name or in that matter, myself. It wasn’t until my heart turned stone and I turned my back toward the Delayla and ran the other direction at a girl very flawless looking at the time. When I ran from Delayla, it had been my senses leading the way, not my heart. My heart still belonged to Delayla even after all I’d put her through.  

It was safe to say that throughout my relationship with my new girlfriend, I was still in love with my first wife Delayla even if I didn’t know it at the time. Now that my new girlfriend, the girl I had mistakenly fallen for had cheated on me, my profound love for Delayla became clearer to me. And along with that, the mess I had made became so clear, that it hurt me to think about it at all.  

When you love someone, you have empathy for them and you put yourself in their shoes, and feel what they feel. Putting myself in Delayla’s place, tears me down and kills me inside. I feel my mistakes like a stone with the weight of the world in it on my back. The feeling is so devastating that it carves a hole right in the middle of my heart. The fact that Delayla is the one actually going through this and most likely hurting a hundred times worse, is just too much for me to bear.  

How could I have been so blind and oblivious in the first place when I made my choice to move out? How could I have hurt Delayla, the one who I truly love, like that? 

It makes we wonder if hell would be the proper place for me to give me what I deserve. Maybe I should cut my life short and leave this world. Being here was meaningless. An angel wouldn’t even give me a second chance at this point, let alone Delayla and our daughter Annie. 

Then a realization hit; I had once considered Delayla to be more than an angel. Why didn’t I have faith in her to forgive me now? Guilt changes a person. It must be changing me. Maybe, just maybe, her heart would be open for a second chance. My mind debated with itself as I eyed my cell phone a few inches away from where I was sitting at the table. My hand crawled toward my phone. The hand that was tattooed with Delayla and my initials. In slow motion, I picked up my phone and did something I haven’t done for two years. I opened Delayla’s contact. My finger slid down my phone, inches away from the call button. But before I could press it, my hand froze in motion.  

Would I really admit to her that I needed her? She would put me down and pay me back for what I had done. If she wanted me back, she could make the first move. After all, the truth of my girlfriend cheating on me had spread around town and it was no secret that I was single.  

I set my phone down and pushed it across the table, away from me. Since I had too much pride to apologize, I would remain single and regretful. I guess you could consider me as stubborn as a bull.