Four years ago, I made a mistake that has ruined my life. I don't know why I did it. I believed that someone loved me. I was convinced by the most beautiful of words that I was what he wanted. That mistake has haunted me ever since. It has made negative ripples throughout each and every day that I live. I didn't mean to do it. I don't know what I did wrong. But, I am constantly paying for it, and everyone that I once thought I knew is now bedecked in a mask of hate.
The destruction of my actions has ripped through my life much like a hurricane. I will never be the same. My youth, my innocence...casualties of a natural disaster. Though I would like to regain some semblence of normalcy, it eludes me. I can't return to who I was. I can't move on to who I could be.
I can never love anyone again. I can not give my heart to someone else, because one stills possesses it. I am deeply in love with a memory. The man I loved no longer exists. Someone else walks around in the body that I once knew better than my own. Another mind works beneath the familiar skull. Another pair of eyes watches as I walk across the grass. The man I love is an incomplete chapter in my story. And that in itself is a tragedy.
I was once a part of something beautiful. We were the sort of couple that made you wonder if you could ever find that kind of love. We were fun, spontaneous, loving, and passionate. There are beautiful memories that can never be lost or forgotten. But that's all we are now. A beautiful memory.
For two years, I knew what happiness felt like.Now, all I have is the knowledge that my happiness is gone. It can not be re-lived. Those two years are just another memory to be wrapped up and stored away in my chest of broken dreams. I can never have the life that I wanted for myself. That portion of me is also just a beautiful memory. All I have now is the few moments of calm that I can manage to retain throughout each week.
I have no family anymore. I'm surrounded by petty, selfish, insane people that wear the faces and bodies of my loved ones. But they are not my beloved family. They are all strangers to me now. I feel I've been set adrift in an ocean of hungry pirahnas. They snatch great big chunks of my sanity in their sharp little teeth. No matter how quickly I press the button, I just can not outswim them.
All that remains is my resolve to complete the story. My stubborn desire to know if the memory could somehow be transported to the present. My hope that all of my dedication is not in vain. My world has been shattered. It makes for an intriguing read.
But this is not a beautiful piece of poetry.
This is my heart, my sanity.
And my hand lingers over the delete button.