Tell Me Why You Think You’re Worth It
I ceased to believe that I was worth anything. This was the only way I could put one foot in front of the other, keep waking up every day to a hole where my heart used to be. I’d crack open my eyes to let in the light and then stay in that position for over an hour, hating myself for throwing away such productive morning time. All it would’ve taken was a little effort, but I was long past the point where I cared about my mental well-being.
I still loved her, at the time (quite possibly still today), and became obsessed with the idea of setting her free so that she’d come back to me. I assumed that’s how it was with her; both of us were in the throes of drug experimentation due to our youth, and neither of us was paying attention to anything but ourselves. In the end, that’s what I peg as the ultimate failure.
The experimentation intensified, more so on her end, but that’s not to say I didn’t go down my own dark roads searching for the feelings that had deserted me before. I was comfortable in their betrayal now, and whatever substance I had would convince me that’s all there was to it.
To give some background, we both came from semi-rich white households. She happened to be Asian, but the lifestyle was distinctly suburban. I had been raised to fear drug addicts, and the fact that now I was so close to resembling one crushed what little was left of my self worth. So I let go completely. Ironic, right?
In the end it was apparent that she had done the same, and although we have not spoken in years I still let myself believe that it was for the same pitiful reason as me. No matter how good, bad, fun, or terrifying everything got, I always hoped she had a line into my life, could see my struggle, and would come back into my arms and tell me it was all okay. Tell me that she had gone through the same and it was because she had a space in her heart left for me, and it had to be filled in my absence. Only today do I realize I had the same power, and my cowardice was really our downfall.
Perhaps I still possess that power? The power to walk up and start what never stopped, to remind her that we are much the same children who explored rooftops looking for anything but a view, and once we did we stayed for as long as we could. The power to cripple you with my words, to express the feelings that, due to lack of expression, would otherwise consume me. If I do, is it right to use it? I know you have a new man now, not that I’m jealous or anything, but it serves to remind me that I no longer have the right to walk back into your life, bringing all of my problems and addictions, the ones you’ve likely fought so hard to banish from your life. I’m so proud of you for that.
So after years of mulling this over, naturally I haven’t come to a decision. I wake up earlier now, and my natural heartbeat has filled the hole where you used to be. But you are never far from my mind, and I always, always, always carry the (false) hope of “one day”.