“It was a question I had worn on my lips for days – like a loose thread on my favorite sweater I couldn’t resist pulling – despite knowing it could all unravel around me.
“Do you love me?” I ask.
In your hesitation, I found my answer.”
― Lang Leav
You are in a secure interview room; it’s just us two. There’s no need to fret, as long as I can feel the sincerity of your words on my skin like a physical touch. The truth has always been able to withstand any form of inquiry, and I hope for your sake that it is true. Know that I am watching every part of you closely. The heat in your beautiful blue eyes, the flare of your perfect pointed nose, the movement of your soft lips, and the reaction of your beautifully sculpted body. I used to believe that you were God’s gift to mankind and that I was the luckiest woman alive to have caught your fancy. But the past six months with you have made me wonder: if God does not make mistakes, then who made you?
I noticed that you take my body easily because you’re in no rush to get my heart. But you’ll never take her body without her heart. It’s always been about the culmination of it for you. With her, it’s all or nothing. With me, you’re okay with just “something.” You’ve never called it anything but what it has always been – a fucking good time. But if she gave you even a glimmer of hope, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you. I don’t stand a chance in the face of the power she has over you. And the difference is that she isn’t even trying. You’re in love with her. You crave an idea of a person who does not exist. She’s a fantasy you’ve conjured up in your head. You don’t know her as well as you know me. Your life with her will never fully materialize, not the way your life with me has.
You say you care about me, but caring does not equate to love. It means you like having me in your orbit. But it wouldn’t hurt if I walked away right now. What’s worse is that I fell in love with a man who is already taken, and he doesn’t even know it. Or do you? You can tell me. The walls of this interrogation room are soundproofed, and so is my heart. No one outside this room would hear the sound of it breaking. So I need to know, do you love me? Or am I just a stand-in until your Marilyn Monroe is ready to be with you?
Another thing I never told you about this interrogation room is that the walls are very high. This is to prevent you from climbing over it. You can not make holes through it, and it can not be easily kicked down. All ducts through the walls have a security mesh inside to prevent you from crawling out. In order words, there is no escape. If you won’t talk, you’re going to sit here and listen attentively as my words cut your skin the way you’ve bruised mine.
I want you to know what it’s like to live without me. To stay up until 3 am, haunted by everything I gave you that you took for granted. I want you to ponder on what we could have been but never became because of your stubbornness. I know soon, your attraction will fade, and you’ll change your mind about me. And even though I am preparing myself for the inevitability of the veritable wrecking ball of heartache, I know it’ll still feel like someone threw a grenade my way. I’d feel the cacophony of shock wash over me before I explode in different directions. I’ll ponder why I never walked away sooner. Why I fully participated in my destruction even when I saw all the red flags. It was as if you wore a Christmas light in March. I couldn’t have missed it, I only chose to ignore it.
Oh, I know you’ll never do this to her. You think the high she gives you will last forever. For you, that’s what it means to truly be in love. She’s your drug, and I am the after effect. You go to her when you want something exciting. Then, you come home with her leftovers, and every time I reach for you, I feel you cold and blue. But no high lasts forever, just look at how I have crashed and burned. I have become gray and barren and it’s because of you.
I know walking away from you would feel cold. Like you took all my heat with you. I know that the days that follow would be a painful unraveling of everything I have worked so hard to bury. And long after, I’ll be cautious about sharing myself with anyone. I’ll be afraid that every man I encounter would have traces of You in them. I’d miss your sweet caress, your slow exploration of my body —like you needed to possess and devour me at the same time. I’d miss the way you swallowed every sound, tasting my wordless groans, wanting to feel them deep in your chest. Knowing they were yours, relishing in the fact that I was yours. I’d hate you for a while. I’d put you in the past where you belong, and hate my past for even accommodating you. I’d wake up at night, trembling and heaving, reaching out for you, – unsure as to why you’re not lying next to me. Then it’ll hit me, I walked away, and you never asked me to stay. The thunderclap of emotions will wash over me then — like rain but from my eyes. But I’d take a deep breath, and reclaim the composure I let slip away.
I know what’s between us was not real even if it felt real to me. The love you promised to give me has been what has kept me here. It’s the key ingredient that has been missing for the last six months. Because you were important to me, I gave you one too many chances. Now I feel like a used toy at a rickety thrift store. My friends and family don’t suspect a thing. The Academy needs to give me an Oscar for how well I hide the pain of You from them. But I know that soon, I would be like Elizabeth Berkley in Showgirls. Everyone would know that all this time, it’s been bad acting. Because I am slowly becoming undone. I am no longer centered, no longer in balance.
Maybe if I leave, you’ll wake up and see how empty your life is without me. But even as I say this, I know you’re not mine. I need to spare myself this agony. You have never been ready or deserving of me. If you couldn’t grow up when you were with me, you won’t grow with her. You’re not a man ready for any kind of love. Anything anyone gives you would always be spat out nicely because you pride yourself in being the kindest soul. But the past six months with you have been anything but kind.
I am so scared that we’ll never be anything but what we are right now. I just don’t know how to make you love me. If I had to walk on water to show that my faith in you was real, it would have been enough to keep us together. There’s nothing more I can do. So, this interrogation is over. you’re free to go home to her, while I go home with my peace of mind for the first time in six months.
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