I want to say
I want to say
I have to remind myself a lot that it isn’t about me and him anymore, it’s now about how I deal with what’s been left with me. I have to change “you” when I have these talks with myself about (you)”him”, instead I rephrase with him.
One remarkable thing is the validity of the love I possessed for him. Real love clings and his washed away. And though it isn’t the same, changed into grief. It was really there. And he can’t lie about that. And neither can I. I will take my paths alone and it will lead me to my destiny.
Or my demise.
I’ve thought since the beginning of the end, that in another alternate timeline my son and his father and I are all still together, we are a family. In at least one other lifetime it worked out. I used to want to paint us, I imagined us in our matching clothes in a summer field and the image is hazy with the sun and heat and humidity green and gold and rose. just the other day, after I thought this again, a small flutter of grief tore at me and that gnawing death wish crept up behind me. I solemnly realized that in at least one other timeline the grief and guilt drove me to suicide, now I will always think of them both; I know as sure as one is true so is the other, but neither involve this me.
When we took that acid and you crawled on top of me on the couch in my living room, you scared me.