fieldsofpurplebreeze

[fieldsofpurplebreeze]

I miss you. I miss your texts. I miss your spams. I miss your laughs and jokes and teasing words. I miss your good nights and good mornings. I miss your questions and info dumping. I miss your excitement. Excitement about gossip, about music, about movies and random facts and knowledge I won’t ever obtain. I miss your intellect, your mimics and gestures. I miss your touch and closeness, your smell, i miss your presence and the beat of my heart alongside you. It never beats the same ever since, like a broken watch, it’s rhythm known, somehow familiar but not quite correct. I miss life with you. I miss your love. Our love. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.

[fieldsofpurplebreeze]

It’s June and the sun is shining, heat is rising, I should be thriving but I’m dying. I’m dying and I keep dying over and over because I am not made nor designed to exist anywhere but alongside you. I feel like an empty shell. I am not actually empty. Organs reside inside me, fighting, struggling to keep me alive when all I want is to disappear, truly disappear because what I want more than to not exist is to know you back with me. To have you back with me.  

I don’t think I can ever put into words just how difficult it is, was, how hard and truly heartbreaking it both was and still is to be where I am while you are where you are. I want to say that I would like to go back, that I would like to handle it differently but I can’t truly say that I would. I know and have learned especially after I left, just how much I would’ve hurt you. How much worse I would have made it for you than if I had stayed and I know. I know. Nothing could have been worse than for me to leave, I know but there could have. I don’t say that to justify it, there is no justifying something we both know I had to do. I am saying it from a place of knowledge, you know? After all, I’ve been where you are and you have been where I was and even though I wouldn’t ever change anything about us, I would also never ask you to go through nor experience anything similar to that especially after you’ve done what you did. I am happy for you. I’m always going to be and I am never going to sabotage your happiness and the peace you’ve made, ever. Never. I don’t ever want to rupture that. At the same time I am finding it unbelievably hard to keep my distance. I read all your things with fondness, eager, always checking for something new, living vicariously through all the people who get to experience the pleasure of creating with you. I’d lie if I’d say that it doesn’t hurt a little. It hurts a lot. It always does but I have done this to myself whether willingly, no matter for what reasons. Sometimes I wish you would text me again. Ask me to come back again just so I can be sure you want that, at the same time I am happy and glad to know that you’ve moved on or at least seemingly so. I would ask you myself, you know? I would love to text you, ask you if you want me back, if you’d have me back if I were to come back. I want nothing more than to do that. At the same time, I’m glad my weakness didn’t overcome me, didn’t control me. I’m glad I didn’t just slip into your dms all of a sudden, no matter how much I wanted to. See, it was very difficult for me at first to see and read everything. I tried very hard not to, I really did but I couldn’t quite control myself. I’d get jealous, seething with jealousy. Angry, upset, all the bad things you can imagine: and now imagine we had still been in contact? Still writing? I don’t want to imagine the things I had said or done out of a single uncontrolled emotion. I want to be with you and I hope I get to be with you again someday at the same time I really don’t want to disturb your peace. I think your life is much more peaceful without me.

[fieldsofpurplebreeze]

My mind is playing tricks on me. The kind that leads me to believe I could love you any different, could love you less fervently, could love you with a heart that doesn’t have your name stitched into it, delicate cursive letters wielded by the calmest, gentlest fingers- the only pair of hands to ever reach so far. It’s working alongside my heart for once, can you believe? My mind? They’ve joined forces, are working against me to fight their way back to you, can you believe? All while I am fighting every bone, muscle and nerve of mine not to approach you, not to bother you, not to rip from you what you’ve accomplished; oh, how you’ve grown. How you’ve succeeded in the greatest of your works, the longest, hardest of them all : yourself. I wish I could’ve been part of it, that I would’ve played a part in it but there was nothing for me to contribute; only to counteract. I am not ashamed of the way I love you. I love you. I love you the way the gods intended you to be loved because how could any less ever suffice? How could any less ever be worthy of all that you are? I’m not ashamed of how much I love you, no; I’m heartbroken, lost and empty for I can’t give it to you, can’t reach out to you, can’t show you, tell you, beg you to reach out for me one more time. I’d hear you. I’d come for you. I’d stay. This time I’d stay. For you but for me, too.

[fieldsofpurplebreeze]

And tonight for the first time in a long time; for the first time in a long while the hard time is weighing on my chest in ways I cannot fight anymore. For the first time I’m balancing on the edge of writing the letters, hitting the keys; for the first time in a long night I can’t satisfy myself with thoughts, can’t tame the beast with just a look or two and hell not even your blatant happiness saturates no more. Now, for the first time as I’m caught in the high of my longing, the endless yearning, the constant, insurmountable bruising of all that is lost still bleeding like a fresh wound somewhere between the heart and the structure of bones that have failed to protect what’s below- I’m allowing myself this. A quiet compilation of love letters to you. An outpour of all and everything I didn’t say, I want to say; of all the things lost in the fields of purple breeze.

Lately I have been thinking a lot about how life is just a continuous string of thoughts that all revolve around the dangerous curves of the words “what” and “If”. What if. What if? It’s nice sometimes but dangerous and horrible most of the time. It also begs the question of how none of the scenarios in my own personal “what if” world are ever going to be within my reach and how I have not the slightest of ideas how nor the intention to pursue any of them. I want to. I am dying to. I almost did. I really, fucking almost did. I had the words right there staring back at me, had the will, had the selfishness, had it all wrapped into every of those commas, all a button away from hitting you like a bullet but somehow I swerved left or right, up or down, swerved away abruptly and now I am here. Now I am here writing and vomiting out my mind in an attempt to stop myself from doing the one thing I want to do because I miss you.

I miss you.

Of course I miss you. I’ve missed you in the first minute and missed you the same week. I missed you for a month, missed you the past and current month and I miss you right now with a stinging feeling in my chest that never got to rest because you are simply missing from me and you always will. Most of the time I find comfort in the fact that you have moved on or at least that’s what I’m telling myself or maybe I am sure you have and right now I am saying all that to light a little candle of hope that maybe you haven’t. But maybe you haven’t. I check your pinned post religiously, looking for my name like it’s some kind of light in your house that’s still burning for me and although it is still there, although my heart skips a beat every single time I check and see you haven’t removed it, I can’t help but wonder: Is it still burning for me? Did you just forget to blow it out? I don’t know. I am not sure but I ensure you I’m going to keep on missing you, my love. Always. For as long as I breathe.

p.s. you never changed the password.