I had my first full blown panic attack four nights after we split. Four heartbreaking days without the person I had grown so used to spending the previous nine months and never being without. Four days and nights not being in your presence but still hoping you’d get a hold of me to tell me that you came to the same conclusion as me: although you can’t be with me right now, you know you can’t live your entire life without me.
I couldn’t fall asleep because something was telling me you didn’t feel that way. That you’d take your sweet time leaving me hanging just to tell me you can’t ever picture yourself with me again. I wanted so badly to let you come to me first.
But knowing you’d end up telling me it’s completely over sent me into a truly terrifying spiral.
I texted you wanting you to just tell me it was over so I could be in the same place as you and start letting go completely. And then I lost it. After not being able to turn my brain off or sleep for the past 36+ hours, I called you at 6am over and over again til you picked up completely enraged, showing me a cruel side to you I’d never seen before. Me asking for the break up talk you should have already let me have and you denying me that had really fucked me up in a new way I hadn’t yet experienced. You kept hanging up and wouldn’t let me talk and every time I knew I was losing you scared me more and more.
I was on the patio and kept trying to climb over the gate just thinking if I could get over this physical obstacle I’d be able to get to over the emotional blockade you were creating. I ended up slicing my foot open on the wrought iron gate and didn’t realize it til 20 minutes later when I noticed a small pool of blood. It’s still fucking terrifying to think about.
But, as fucking emo and melodramatic as this sounds, the throbbing pain in my foot is now a reminder of how real the pain in my heart is.
You said I was dynamite disguised as a woman when you first met me. So I don’t know why either of us are so surprised that my heart is exploding.
The black hole inside of me you said you ultimately couldn’t deal with has only been exacerbated by you leaving so unfairly.
Didn’t you know that would happen?
When I was leaving your house that night you asked me “what color?” I didn’t want to give into whatever you were creating but I wish I would have.
Should I have said “deep red” or “chartreuse”?
Which answer would have made you realize you can’t live forever without me there?