by Caroline K.
It was time that ripped them out of me. A construct of circumstances that demanded I grow upward and onward with myself, by myself. They are forever imprinted on me, and I like to believe that I’m imprinted on them too. We held each other so closely for enough deep moments; they will never escape my memory or my senses. I can feel their hand by mine. I can feel them holding me under the cool falling rain beneath the stars.
Detachment was agony initially. It hurt more than my attempt at moving on did because I was still connected to them on an unbreakable level. They always seemed far more secure than I ever felt I was, so that repetitious thought spun around and around in my head screaming “you’re crazy, you’re too attached, it was just one month.” We spent every minute of that month together, which was enough time for me to feel safe enough to drop my arms and crumble into a dimension that I have not been able to leave behind.
This dimension was the first place I ever felt valued. It taught me to be kind and loving, but is now lifeless and unrewarding. I feel stuck. I don’t feel desirable and I fear I’ll never experience that joy and connection again.
Perhaps our time is up—I do not feel it is. Maybe that is because I was the dependent one? Was I the dependent one? What is dependency? If it means being too attached, is that an infraction?
Detachment scared me because I recognized how good I had it after it was over, and all I wanted was to go back and recognize it in real time. I feared seeing my hand empty, and I feared facing my next battle without them beside me.
When the next battle came, and they were not beside me, I noticed they were behind me. I noticed they were within me. I noticed that we may never be together again, but we also were never going to be apart.
Living everyday with the memory of someone as positive as this person is fantastic, but it often detracts from reality. I find myself placing them in the present, then realizing they’re only part of the past, and that creates a sentimental bittersweetness. As I grow older, my wisdom will change my outlook on this situation, but I’ll still try to place them in my present world, especially during tough moments.
I will always love them, no matter how much anxiety occupies the space between us now. Nothing euphoric will ever fill the space, and I’ve made peace with that. It was only until the space between us stretched this far apart that I began to realize I was so attached to them; I was not allowing myself to understand the deep connection we shared during our moments together. Through trial, error, and self-discovery, I’ve determined that I can choose to remain physically detached, yet spiritually connected to them as long as I need and want to be.
Once I’m ready, I’ll create a new connection that will be fantastically consuming and will pull me out of this dimension and place me back into the color of life.