Love is Not Enough.

You taught me what it felt like to be safe. 

To be desired. 

To be respected. 

You broke the chains others had shackled me in.

You shattered beliefs that kept me up at night.

You set free the parts of me that had lost hope. 

You showed me I was capable and deserving of love.

You proved me wrong. And I wanted to do the same for you.

I heard what you could not speak.

I saw what you did not show.

I felt what you refused to feel. 

I watched you cry without tears.

I watched you bleed from invisible wounds.

I heard you scream behind impenetrable walls.

I felt you love without intimacy.

I watched you collapse under the weight of the silence others imposed on you. 

I felt your desperate hands, reaching out to me from behind closed doors. Doors I could not open.

I wanted to hold that little boy. The one so terrified, so alienated from love and safety. I wanted to hold him as he cried, listening to the words he was never allowed to speak. I wanted to give him the space to feel what he was never allowed to feel. I wanted to show him that he does have a place in the world, and he is worthy of that place. That he is loved for who he is, and he’s safe now.

I wanted to support the man whose heart was broken. To let him say his piece and make him feel heard. To provide the space he never gave himself to grieve. To heal. To take himself out of the shell of shame, resentment and loneliness, he used to protect himself. I wanted to give him the space to see who he really is outside the judgement of others. 

I wanted to convince him that he is worthy of love, peace, and ease. I wanted him to know things can be better. I wanted him to know he can heal.

Yet all was doomed, with an expiration date set before it started, set by you. 

I had too many faults:

I was optimistic.

I was there when you called for me. 

I was present, and you weren’t. 

I advocated for you when you wouldn’t.

I held space for you when you wouldn’t.

I tried too hard to show you love. 

No amount of love, kindness, compassion, understanding, empathy or respect would have been enough. Because you don’t believe you are worthy to receive any of it.

And that is what upset me the most. 

You do not have a place in your own life.

You are not worth your own time.

So how dare I prove you wrong?

I know my place now.

I wasn’t waiting for you to change. The person I care for is you: the man who’s suffocating under all the dirt his unfair life has buried him under. I only wanted you to see him. To find him again and free him of his traumatic prison. And I was ready to stay by your side as you navigated that difficult terrain. To hold space for you. To support you. To encourage you. To love you through it all, and meet you on the other side, whole again. But you are so hurt, you can’t watch shows depicting raw emotions. You are so far disconnected from yourself that you believe souls don’t exist.

You said no. Time and time again. And you called all the shots.

And yet I still saw the real you in the tiny moments. When your walls would crack ever so slightly.

When you actually open up a little and told me stories about your life.

When you introduced me to your friends.

When you excitedly shared your passions with me.

When you stroked my face while we watched a movie.

When you hugged me and ran your fingers through my hair.

When you pulled me closer in your sleep.

When you asked me to text you when I got home. 

When I felt the lingering scent of you on my skin at night.

Those tiny moments of intimacy meant more to me than you will ever know. They told me more about you than any of the words you spoke.

I’m sorry I care about you. 

I’m sorry you don’t know what it’s like to be cared for unconditionally. 

I’m sorry my kindness made you aware of your own pain. 

I’m sorry I see through your facade. 

I’m sorry I see the parts of you you want to bury. 

I’m sorry I couldn’t start the fire you never brought kindling to. 

I’m so sorry you don’t see your own value.

It makes me so fucking sad. Because I see it. I see it clear as day.

I wasn’t waiting for you to choose me.

I was waiting for you to choose you. 

The song that got me through it:

The featured image is a digital compilation done as a concept ‘sketch’ for a painting. It depicts two figures, a woman and a man. The woman is surrounded by scarlet chrysanthemums, a symbol of deep, intimate love. The man is anchored by a black dahlia, a symbol of loneliness and despair. A figment of him reaches out to her as he turns away.