I found some measure of peace.

I was able to lay to rest some of the questions.

And I feel much better.

But I’m lying here tonight, after having assured his mother that he knew she loved him, (he did… She needed to hear it, but I was speaking true) feeling better, but also, knowing I’m not over it. Not by a long shot.

And I feel the need to not let him off the hook. To tell him that even though today was better, I’m still damaged. That the scar will never leave me. That I will never get over him.

So I whisper at my ceiling as I’m lying in the dark, unable to see it. As if he can hear me.

Maybe he can. I hope so. But people reassuring me that yes, he can just pisses me off. Because we don’t know that. Maybe is the best any of us can do. So, maybe he can hear, and maybe now he believes me. And maybe he’s regretting not letting me in. And maybe he’s going to be there with a giant apology and hug whenever I get there.

But maybe not. Maybe there’s nothing, and those thoughts are just another form of false hope or denial. Or maybe he can hear me and doesn’t care. Or whatever else may be.

It doesn’t matter what the reality is, because right now, I need to send my message in a whisper and imagine that he’s hearing and loving me back.

Written 3/5/2014

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