There is familiar ache in my heart, in my body, in my bones. I have not felt it for quite some time and deep down I never wanted it to come back. Even if that meant I would never feel so strongly for someone that I would never ache for them… I never wanted it to come back. It has stuck its sad, solemn head from underneath the covers and it is taking over every atom that makes up who I am. Who am I? Nowadays, I cannot tell. I cannot decipher any of my feelings and I don’t recognize the woman looking back at me through the mirror. Her eyes look so empty, her hair so ruffled, her face so pale. That cannot be me; no way, no how. Though I have never been conceited, I cannot take my eyes away from the mirror; away from the girl who looks like she is longing for something that she will never be able to attain again.
That, and only that, is the reason I know that that woman, so empty and callous, is I. It is I who has gotten so pale, so ruffled, so empty. I can’t stop longing for something, for someone, for you. But where have you gone? You have not gone anywhere, have you? It was me who left you; it was me who walked aboard that airplane and flew away, never wanting to look back. I thought that taking myself out of our horrid love story would make everything alright, that the ache I had felt at the time would be forever gone. What was that ache? I vaguely remember wanting more from you. Perhaps it wasn’t that I wanted more, though, perhaps I wanted to mean more to you. I felt like I could never make an impact in your life or your heart, but I blamed it on me, wanting more from you. I remember the morning that I left you, asleep on your side of the bed, probably dreaming of nothing and everything at all.
I will never know if you tried to get ahold of me after I walked away from everything. I left my cell phone at a charging station at the airport, thinking perhaps someone else could use it more than I could. I cancelled my phone plan a week later and never looked at the bill to see if you had even picked up the phone to look for me. Did you look for me? Perhaps you found someone else while on the search for the woman who left you on a cold, rainy morning. Perhaps, like my paranoid thoughts led me to believe, you didn’t care much if I stayed or left. Perhaps you didn’t give my leaving a second thought. I imagine you carrying on with your day, the only sorrow you feel is that I was no longer there to bring books home from the local library.
I remember you didn’t read one single book until I brought some home. You had always seen me reading late at night while you were busy on your favored computer, but you never asked me what it was I was looking for in all of those books. After I left a pile of novels, large and small, on my bedside while I left for a week to see my family (I was really just hoping you’d miss me, you know). I noticed the books were sprawled all around our apartment. In the bathroom, in the kitchen, beside the couch, in the bed where I would have been. You didn’t try to converse with me about what you found in the books, you only told me that you noticed the books were due yesterday, but you didn’t get a chance to do me a favor and drop them off. I wonder, what did you find?
Aching. Everything is aching. It hasn’t been more than a few months since I left, finding myself hundreds of miles away, but it feels like it has been forever. It feels like it has been years since I last kissed those lips of yours or since you caressed my entire body with your hands. I always loved your hands, so strong and masculine. The hands that would shut me out, closing the door to your study when you tired of me. The hands that would hold my own during a scary movie or a rainy, cold walk home. I look at my own hands, wondering what would have happened if I stayed.
If I fought for you, would you have realized how much you meant to me? Would you have opened your heart, even just a little bit, so I could have a peak inside? I know I could always come back and knock at your door, I would see then, in your eyes, if you felt relief that I had finally returned or confusion at the fact that I was standing in front of you. Sometimes the ache inside of me wants to go back to you, to go back to our bed we once shared, to kiss those all familiar lips, but I will never bring myself to do it. It is a big world out there, and though that fact alone makes me ache even more, I know I am better off without you, waiting for a person who would ache for me.