On letting go

When you have given your heart to someone fully, relying on them is the natural state of being.  This person is there for you from the dawning of the day, to nights end.  They listen and comfort and laugh.  Memories are created, comfort is formed, and true intimacy is the wonderful result.

So what happens when you are forced to let go of this comfort, of this love, of this soul connecting intimacy?  I am finding it so difficult.  Impossible.  My masochism in this regard is unparalleled.  I know I shouldn't respond, I know I shouldn't communicate, and yet...   And yet, when no one else is around my heart is still drawn to the place of comfort.

I am alone.  My heart is alone.  My mind is alone.

With every continued contact I expect to feel a sense of relief.  That feeling of coming home after a long arduous journey... sleeping in my own bed again... comfort and comfortability.

With every contact I hope to gain validation.  This wasn't my fault, or my doing.  You are still struggling like I am.  You are unable to move on any better than I.

With every contact I hope to change your mind.  If only for a moment, have you see what you have given up.  Have you acknowledge this could have been fixed and was the biggest mistake of our life.

With every contact, I only find disappointment and further pain.  Even when you validate my feelings, even when you tell me you know and understand, even when you tell me you will never stop loving me and no one can take that away...  It is never enough.  It will never be enough because you could never be enough.  How can I expect you, the one who broke me, who witnessed  me crumble for years, and opted to be a recluse instead of a partner, how can I expect you to be the one who sets it right.  It is absurd... and yet...

How do you let go when you were never ready to in the first place.  How do you let go, when the connection is still real, and the hurt still raw.

Where does the strength come from when you are so tempted to reach out, but know it will only hurt worse in the end.

When does the time help cleanse these wounds and cause me to forget.

When will I be rid of you...