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It was the Lies
I may always fail to understand how a person can chose to leave. I try to understand every angle and aspect of their situation, hoping to come to an epiphany of why or how they came to that conclusion.
Maybe I am missing something. Tirelessly, I struggle to see it. In the midst of failing to understand I turn to hate, to sorrow, I try to forget. Yet, every second, every memory is bound to me, it has become a part of my being.
I cannot run away from who I am, I cannot repel my own feelings.
The loss doesn’t hurt the most; it isn’t what keeps me awake at night. The lies do.
The lies that I believed as a child: that love was ever-present, bountiful, and unrelenting.
Instead, those hands that hugged me and gave me comfort also pulled the trigger and tipped the bottle back a little further.
How could someone so close, so truly loving; lie about that?
I grew up with them as my safe haven, they were proud they understood me.
Now, it’s as if it was all an illusion; a mirage in the distance, only being filled in by my mind’s desires.
See I thought I was loved and understood. They told me I made them proud. I guess I was young, naïve, and ignorant. Little did I know that adults lie and deceive.
My saving beacon was a delusion, a fantasy.
It’s not that they are gone.
It’s that I believed that I meant something to them and then they just left.
© 2017 Elise Reed