Time, He Flexes Like A Whore*

16/02/24 

Everyone keeps telling me that I’m strong.

They tell me that I’ll find a way through this, just like I have with all the other challenges I’ve faced in life.

But I don’t feel strong at all. 

I feel like maybe all those other challenges used up all my resources. 

I feel cut adrift and totally lost. 

“Give it time” they say. 

 “How much time?” I think. 

Because all I can see right now is forever stretching ahead without him, and it’s unbearable. 

I think it might take all the time I have left in the world for this longing to stop. 

Does every person who’s been broken up with think like that?

Possibly, but it brings no comfort. 

I’m not everyone. I’m me – my own unique blend of fucked-up-ness.

Trying to be a better person.

Wanting to make amends some way, somehow.

Still in love with him. 

Will I never dance with him again? 

Will I never sit with him, gazing in awe at some spectacular landscape? 

Will we never again have breakfast in bed, reading printed versions of the Sunday papers, the way he just recently said we would? 

I miss him so much it’s a physical ache, a weight that’s crushing my chest. 

The thing with the ‘give it time’ crew is that they’re talking about giving myself time to get over him.

They’re able to just accept that it’s totally over between me and him. They may feel sorry for me and all that, but they have no glimmers of hope the way I do. 

They are most likely seeing the truth and reality of the situation and are trying to get me to accept it too. 

But I can’t (she wailed). 

I can’t cope with the all-engulfing despair of never, no more.  Deep, deep down the little voice is telling me I’m going to have to, but I don’t know how. 

I want the pain to stop, but I want it to stop because he’s reached out to me, not because I’ve found a way to cut my feelings off. 

Round and round it goes. 

Meanwhile, he’s out there living his best life, becoming ever happier and more content.  Oh god, I want to be part of that, in whatever tiny way he might permit. 

I try to follow his example, to think only about myself and to do things that will make me and my life better. 

Trouble is, I always end up wanting to share my achievements, get feedback and assistance with stuff like the bike; this isn’t just looking for ways to draw him in, but because for all this time he’s been my companion, my confidant, my best friend, and I have no one else to fill those roles. 

I mean, I get that in latter years he wasn’t awfully friendly to me a lot of the time. But, somewhat sadly, he was still the best friend I had throughout our 20 years. 

He was the one who was there, the one I’d turn to with news and gossip and trivia and accomplishments.  He’s still the first person I instinctively want to tell things to. 

I wonder, does he ever miss me in that way? 

I don’t know anything any more except that I wish I’d been good enough.

I love him and miss him and want him.

At the same time, I don’t want to feel any of it any more.

_{* Thank you David Bowie for this line, and your amazing music. You are missed.}

JP