Missing Pieces Are Realized The Longer You Are Gone

My dearest.

Where do you start when you have so much to say?
Well, let me start by saying I will always be in love with what you’ve done to me. And I know you love me to, even though it’s not the in love I feel. I’ve grown to be okay with it, in case you’ve been wondering. I would be a liar if I said not a day went by that I haven’t thought of you. It’s true you’ve slipped my mind, but when I think of you, it seems something like this:

I imagine myself standing on the top of a very tall building. From the ground it seems to touch the sky, but up here, it falls short by a long-shot. Looking over the edge, I think how it would feel to plummet that far. Wondering if I’ll create a powerful thud or simply be swallowed up by the earth. Then you come along, with your pretty face. Instead of trying to talk me down, you did all but push me over the edge yourself. You like to see me broken. You take your time making your way down the stairs to find me, a mess of broken limbs and bones, that has clattered violently to the ground in a self-made catastrophe. You pick me up, ignore me when I cry about the pain. You take me home and you fix me slowly. One limb at a time. My arms first so that I can wrap them around you and spill my sorrow against your skin. My legs next so that I can walk crookedly to the window and observe the new and rising day, head clad with surgical stitches, tenderly made by you. All you needed was a needle and some thread. Some love and some words and that’s all you help to fix me, apparently.
.
But that was just at first. You knew how much I hated the idea that the worst was yet to come. And so you left me blissfully ignorant for some time. But you allowed the demons to swallow me whole in the night, and you never came for me. You forced me to face my fears and made me come for you. I didn’t realize at the time, it made me stronger every time. You beat me, bruised me, threw me away, threw me off, kicked me, broke me, cut me. Almost every thing but kill me, and it was so very beautiful.
You said you’d never make me feel that way, but I let it go every time, and I think you can guess why. It was something in your eyes that made me feel like I was falling. I’ve always been afraid of heights, but this was just to perfect. And that’s why I always forgave you.

So now, as I’m writing this, I’m looking at this picture you took of me. Sitting on that bench in that park, looking in that direction at that object. Yeah, I know you’ll always know what I’m talking about. You don’t know how many times I’ve cried myself to sleep instead of picking up the phone and leaving that simple message for you to late contemplate.

I love you. I miss you. Come back to me please.

I think I’ve finally found out why. I’m afraid you might never come. Or even worse I’m afraid of the operator.

The number you are trying to reach is not available because of discontinuation.

Or whatever the fuck it is that they say when they tell you that, the person you’re trying to reach so desperately to tell them that you love them, to tell them that they did an amazing job in remaking you, to tell them that you just want to hear their voice one last time - didn’t give enough of a fuck to let you know their number is changed.

And you’ve done it again. You’ve made me realize something again. It was never about me. It was about you and your special ways of manipulating me to think that I was helping myself and getting better. You did it to make yourself look good. And I applaud you, what a wonderfully job you’ve always done in your attempt to get a rise out of me. But I’ve realized something else. Something more important. You need me. More then I ever needed you. I’m so much stronger than I ever thought you were. And I know it sounds conceited, but I wanted you to know I know now. You like to see me broken because you are the same way.
You made me content in my ability to lose control.
To put quite simply, I’m very comfortable with you living under my skin.

So, I’ll be waiting for your call.
And I’ll be waiting on that bench, in that park looking in direction at that object. And yes, it will be at the precise time we met. (I was keeping track)
You gave me one year, and I’ll extend you the same curtsey, but I won’t wait forever.
I know what you were doing to me and know I’m ready to help you fight your demons baby.
Don’t be ashamed, every one’s got one.
I’m here, but time is dwindling away.
Tick-tock.
Please come home to me.

Love always,
Chaos.