My Love

Dear Diary… no. I don’t want to start this journal out in a lie. You never did appreciate my tendency to avert the truth. Little did I know how ironic that really was. But anyway, I am trying to be an honest woman now. I’m not really addressing ‘Diary‘ and to pretend I am for appearances’ sake would make the whole point of this void. So, I’ll start again.

My Love… I write in here because I can’t express what it truly means to love you in real life. I plan to fill these pages with my affections. A place to pour my soul into. As the ink etches into the soft pages below my fingertips, I think about the last time I saw you, how the breeze felt on my neck as it lifted my hair in a hurricane around my head. It was cold. Just transitioning from winter to spring. The sun was warm, but the trees shrouded me in shade, goosebumps rippling up my arms. I imagined they were your fingertips. I miss you. No, I need you. I do not know how I’m meant to go on without you, or why you’ve chosen to create this distance between us. It feels like a country and a billion oceans are separating us. But it is just a court order. The entity that burned our bridges was a gavel. The sound of hardwood clashing will ring in my ears like Zeus’ thunder rumbling in the deep, dark clouds of Olympus.

My Love. I suppose you’ve noticed that I have not marked what date the entries are written in. Without you the days cease to matter to me. It could be Christmas day but without you it feels… pointless. Everything feels pointless. I sat by the courthouse today. The memory is seared like fire in my mind but returning there only made it more vivid. That image of your face that never leaves me… will never leave me… it burns brighter when I sit on the bench across from the courthouse and remind myself of that day. You walking through those grand doors, long hair tied neatly into a low bun. I wonder who helped you with your hair. If someone picked out your outfit. If someone told you how beautiful you looked that morning. I he did. I would have. Every day. My Love, I would never stop reminding you how you make me feel. How do I make you truly understand? I need you to hear my feelings or… read them. I think I will fill this up with my feelings for you, every thought I have ever had about you, and leave it for you to read. I will leave it on your doorstep. I don’t need contact with you if I know you’ll be reading these words. They show you how intensely I love you more than any touch ever could. I love you. I love you.

Today was hard. Excruciating. It’s the middle of the night and I can’t sleep. The moon is bright as I sit by my bedroom window, but it is only a reminder of the darkness within me. I miss you. Today I walked by the ice cream place you took me to. Do you remember? I don’t see how you could forget, God knows I never will. The smile on your face and your eyes half closed in the harsh summer sun. My life will never be that bright again. Will I ever hold your hand again? Feel the way my heart jumps when I make you laugh? I can’t live like this. You must know how deeply I feel for you, My Love. We were happy once. Maybe I sometimes took it too far, felt too hard… too much. But I didn’t want to lose you and when I did actually lose you it felt like I’d been snapped in half. It still feels like that. My Love I want my future to be with you. All the things we talked about doing and accomplishing together. I can only do those things with you. I should sleep.

It's been a few weeks. I have resisted the urge to write about you. I don’t love you any less, My Love. Never. But it was all consuming. I could hardly breathe. I went to the coast. Every time I thought of you, I would stand by the shore and pick up a pebble. I would imagine the pebble was filled with that thought and I threw it as far as I could into the sea. It was relieving. But I’m back now and I saw you through the window of your office. You were wearing that blazer I ironed for you one time. You were at mine on a Sunday night and woke up in a panic the following morning, late for work. I ironed your clothes for you whilst you ate toast and had coffee at my dining table. God, do I love you. You loved me too, I know you did. You loved me when I had you gasping for air from laughing so hard. You loved me when I brought your lunch to you during the week. That was when I was working at the library just round the corner from your office, remember? Before they found out when I was caught and fired me. That was a new low for me… I beg you… please forget that happened. I am not that person.

Remember when we would meet at 5pm every day? And on Friday nights we’d meet and then walk to get dinner in town. I’d ask what you wanted, and you’d say Italian, mostly. I remember when you said you wanted fish. I knew that was unusual as soon as you said it. Most Fridays you’d go into detail about what kind of pasta you wanted, with sun ripened tomatoes or rich creamy sauce, sometimes you wanted a cheesy pizza with a side of fries to share. But then you said fish. You said it was weird, you never craved fish, but you’d been thinking about it all week at work. Didn’t care what kind, or from where, you just needed fish. And a side of pickles. Fries to share, though, of course. That’s what made me snap out of my alarm bell daze, the ringing faded too quickly, and I took you to get fish. I knew. I did. Even if you didn’t. And then… you broke me. But I love you. And I won’t let you go, especially now I know you didn’t keep it. I waited for you to get up from your desk so I could see. The blazer didn’t hide your figure from view, and I saw your blouse neatly tucked into your skirt, the same body I had held close to me a million times before. Am I the reason you didn’t keep it, My Love? I leave this here for you now, to read. Full of hope and regret for the past. I am different now, I promise. The question is, are you? 

Meet me at the ice cream shop at 8pm if the urge compels you, as it has done so to me. I’ll be waiting, My Love.