The day we met I knew instantly that you would be someone important in my life. The feeling was indescribable; the type of thing that only happened in an extra-cheesy romance movie. Usually one from the Hallmark channel (bleh).

A bubble expanded in my chest, climaxing into a pop, and that’s when I knew I had to talk to you. I had to know you.

Hours and hours and hours and hours, all spent with you. My very soul listened to your every problem, my heart beat only for you. Soon, the hours turned to days, days to weeks, weeks to months, and then months to 4 years.

It was the longest anyone ever bothered to stick around. And I was truly convinced that you cared. We were obsessed with each other.

You were the Sun in my solar system. The thorn to my rose. The peanut butter to my ice cream. You were my fantasy, a dream too good to be real. And I guess you and I were all the other cheesy couple-y shit that I should never have believed in.

Because now…

…

Now. It’s different.

You spit words at me, not caring how my heart beat a little slower. You gave me Arrhythmia.

“Stifling.“

“Suffocating.”

“Controlling.”

“Trapped.”

I was none of those things. I caused none of those things.

Passion. Loyalty. Love.

That was me.

Why couldn’t you see that?

Why couldn’t you listen?

I shook. Shook with a violent ferociousness. The crystalline, delicate heart I gave you was cracking under the pressure. And the more vile words you spit, the more the crystal structure broke and tore. Eventually the pressure stopped.

It shattered in one quick beat. And burning lava bled out.

Had I failed you so miserably?

Had I been the villain in your story?

That wasn’t possible. It couldn’t have been possible. I gave you shelter. Food. Love. I let you see your parents twice a month. How was I a villain when all you do is destroy and destroy and destroy?

And now you’re not here. My heart should beat with relief, but it betrays me.

No matter.

You’ll come back eventually, even if I have to make you see how good I was. Show you how you will never find another person quite like me. After all, no one else is allowed to have you.

You’ll only be gone for a little bit. And I’m okay with that. I have to be okay with that —even if it makes the world stop spinning on its axis. If I have to, I’ll spin the world with my own two hands.