(For full effect, listen to 40 Part Motet- Spem in Alium by Thomas Tallis)
It was that moment, sitting on the false leather chair in the hall way of our school, looking up at you as you stood; talking to me. My mind must have been thinking a million things a minute because now, many months later, I can’t remember a damn word you said.
I remember trying to fight the tears. I remember thinking, “this is it. This is the end.” I thought about our memories. Going to concerts and laughing and reading so many books that made us forget everything. I thought about the last memory we had, going to the movies less than 3 days earlier and talking about making a movie of our own; a good one that people would like, unlike the one we had just watched.
Would we never make another memory together? Or would the memories we make for here will be ones to hurt a heart each time to be thought back on.
I have never felt quite as much pain as I did in that moment. When you say, “It’s better for us.” I scoffed in my head and thought the best I could get is to be with you.
I got so sad just those months prior and I’m sorry for that. I couldn’t make you smile the way I wanted to and I couldn’t smile the way you tried to get me to. I wasn’t myself.
And now, I don’t even know who I am. I’ve never been more confused, scared, lost and sad that I am at this moment.
I know that in 4 days, I will walk down the hall, and see the face I’ve been dreading to look at all summer. I wanted to prepare myself for the heartache I will feel when I see you smile.
I really wanted to be over it all.
I wanted to walk down the very same hall that I died in and smile, not thinking about the hurt. I wanted you to see me happy, and wish you could have me back; in all my happiness.
But when you see me, you will be glad you didn’t stick around. You will know that you saved yourself from being hurt in the process.
And I can’t hate you for watching out for yourself, can I? I can’t hate that you left, so you wouldn’t get cut on my shattered pieces.
But I can’t help to think how it would be if you stayed.
You would have little white scars on your hands and a smile on your face because you fixed me and I was worth it. And me, I’d be beside you, laughing at something you had said. And I would be in complete continent.
Or maybe we’d be worse. Your hands would still be bleeding because the pieces wouldn’t stay, so you would’ve had to keep putting me together with as much dignity as you could muster.
The lines near your mouth would be under used and left abandoned. The life in your eyes would be gone after trying so hard to make them shine in mine.
I can’t be mad at you for not doing these things.
And so tonight I let it go. I accept you are happy, and safe. And I accept that I am still trying to mend myself to one day be happy again.
These are the things I cannot change.
But my dear, it has been one hell of a story to look back on.