I know you. I recognise the crease between your eyebrows, I’ve heard what you sound like when you wake up from a nap. I know that when you shake your head to set your hair, you’re also trying to shake the thoughts away. Make sure they don’t bother you, make sure that they stop here before you spiral.
You called me last night – your voice cracking as you whispered “Hello?” into the phone. I know you well enough to know that the crack means you’re falling apart on the other end, tears streaming down your cheeks and your eyes the prettiest (yet saddest) shade of brown I’ve ever seen.
“What? I told you not to call me…” I say. my voice trailing off. You must think I’m a complete heartless bitch, someone who does not care in the slightest about what happens to you. God, I wish that were the case. My voice quivers as I say it, betraying the indecision that prevails in my mind. All I want to do is pick up the pieces of your jagged heart, and stitch it together as it cuts through my hands. But then again, I never really could bear to see you in pain.
“Please. I need you. I can’t do this,” you say, amid sobs. God, just rip my heart out already, wouldn’t you?
“Deep breath”, I whisper to myself. “Nothing you haven’t dealt with before. You can handle this.” After all, practice does make perfect, right? Right?
I sigh, trying to get my thoughts in check. Act like I haven’t missed your voice. “******,” I say, “There is no way this is healthy. For either of us. You have to let me go. You deserve better. I deserve better. I’m so sorry.”
“Mihu, Mihu, please. No one gets it like you do. You know me, it’s easy for me to open up to you. Please. Just this once. Things are terrible,” you cry, your voice cutting through my resolve like it was paper.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you’d found better. You have, haven’t you? That’s why you want nothing to do with me. Oh my God, I’m an idiot. Calling another guy’s girlfriend to cry because I can’t deal with anything. Sounds about right.”
“Tell him you haven’t!” my heart screams. “He’s manipulating her again. He knows she’d feel guilty if he made it seem like she abandoned him. It’s textbook. She’s stronger than this!” my brain counters.
“Am I?,” I ask my brain as I reflexively say, “Okay, what’s wrong?” Whoever said practice makes perfect clearly never had to practice the art of letting someone go. Shutting that door, even when the stopper gets in the way each time. Even when someone puts their foot in its path, keeping it from falling shut. Even drawing blood to stop that from happening.
“Things at home are bad. Again. Mom, Dad, our family – it all seems to be falling apart. I don’t know what to do, everything feels like it’s spinning away from me. My life is a handful of sand – I try so hard to keep it from spilling all over but it does. It always does. I-I….need help” you say. Your voice drops at help.
“We can help, right? Right?” my heart stupidly asks. Too trusting. Too easily swayed by everything you used to be. “Come on, not this again. i get it, it sucks, he’s struggling- what is she going to do about it?”