I always knew that one day she would look at me and she would hate what she saw. I tried to keep hidden. I wanted to give her something honest, something true-I owed her that at least. But she didn't want that. It was fine if the pretending continued, it didn't matter-as long as her holes were filled. She could be whole again-She could pretend that she didn't feel hollow, that death had not ripped her loved away away from her and left an empty space festering with pain as long as I pretended to be the missing piece that filled the vacancy.
I told you. I used to be someone. I spents months trying to crawl out of the mess I had created. I tried to escape into my dreams, I trapped all of my old lives with my words. The characters I once lived as moved in and out of abandoned stories. And even as the characters fell away and the heavy cloak slowly slipped off of my skin, this box remained.
I was frustrated, agonized, tormented by it. I didn't know how to live outside of those 4 sagging walls, I didn't know how to survive, I didn't even know if it was possible at all to live as I wanted.
But I had let go of so much. I had journeyed so far. I was at the ledge, I could feel myself ascending with my arms outstretched, I could feel the cloak being dragged away .
What did I think? That the 4 walls would crumble, that without me, the box would cease to exist. That's what I thought. I told myself to leap; after months of hiding and healing, I told myself to leap back into life and it would embrace me.
I leaped. Eyes squeezed shut, prepared to crash, prepared to feel every bone break. I had convinced myself--yes, it was worth it. I couldn't understand how it was possible but I was grounded. I was still standing, I had made it. All of the months, the slow and painful months...They were worth it.
But somewhere in between morning and night I looked over my shoulder, back at the ruins that had once been my life and I felt it. Everything inside was collapsing, there was an earthquake, the weight of a piano fell 14 stories and landed on my chest.
I couldn't breathe.
It hurt so much to see the box, to see her still standing inside of it, picking up the cloak I had left behind and draping it over someone else. I wanted so badly to still have a place in her heart but I didn't want to morph myself into who she wanted me to be. I couldn't. I thought that my real self would be a good thing-I could fit into her heart the way that she still fits into mine despite everything, make a new space, a new place that was made for me. But I was wrong. I couldn't.
I dropped my character and I dropped out of her life. And now there was another to replace me. She was fine with pretending. She just wanted her holes filled.