La Lutte

I'm still really struggling to come to terms with this concept.
This whole idea of 'being alone'.
No matter how hard I try to express it, I can't.
And I want to... I need to.... I just... I feel... It's like... It's not... But...
You.
Every thought ends the same way.

I'm really happy.
Sometimes.
And I don't think about you.
Sometimes.
I think I'll be fine.
Sometimes.
And I know this is over.
Sometimes.

My brain is numb, and empty, but so full to bursting.
I just know that it's caving in, getting ready to crush me.
I still just feel wrong, like this isn't happening.
Like I'm not doing something right.
Like you're still mine, really.

That night, I sat and stared.
I stared at that clock, hands frozen in time.
I am that clock, stuck forever at a quarter past three.
And you are the key, you alone have the ability to make me move again.
But I know, deep down, that you are not here, and it is I who must make myself live again.

But honestly, I don't know anything.
I couldn't possibly understand these theories of love and loss and loneliness and longing.
After spending hundreds upon hundreds of days under the blissful illusion that I knew what it was to be loved, I am still none the wiser.
I don't know how to love, or when, or why, or what. Even less who.

I cannot comprehend myself. My self. Myself, alone, without you.
I thrive on memories, because you are dead, and I am dead, and new faces have taken our places.
What hurts the most, is knowing we will never again live those lives.
We are a thing of the past, from another lifetime, and right now you seem so far away.
I fight to remember every aching moment, and ache for you to remember me.
For from this moment on, we do not know each other.
We do not know anything at all.

I am lost.
My heart is my compass.
And you are my map.
And the only thing that keeps me going,
Is knowing that one day, I'll find you again.