Long walk to Sanity.
When darkness comes embrace it, don't chase it, know that your days here are temporary and your nights are permanent. I make this promise to you, that I’ll always be in the shadows till the darkness sucks you whole.
It was supposed to be a perfect wedding. Two perfect lovers, entangled in love, with each side forming the Cupid’s bow. Instead, what did we have? Pain. We thought we were above heartbreak, but we weren’t, the fickleness of romance overwhelmed the fragility that was our bond. I loved him too much. It sucked. But now I realize that I loved him more than he loved me. Every time I beat myself wishing I could’ve done something different, maybe put my legs on the brakes when I saw myself falling into the deep, rolling in the mud. There wasn’t even a single thing that he could lay claim to that was our emotional connection. So it was unsurprising that he had the affair. My guts knew it, I always knew it, people leave, romance was like war, everyone broke your heart. But I was naively foolish to think ours was different. He’s seated at one side of the bed, head bent, in shame. I’m seated at the other side, hands clasped on my bosom lost, trying to rationalize what happened and maybe find the strength to walk out and pretend my husband-to-be didn’t just dive into the deep thighs of my friend.
“I’m sorry.” I heard him say. I hated those words. Everyone who had broken my heart I’ve always uttered those words. The phrase was pointless, it wasn’t magical, and it never conveyed any real emotions, when people use those words they just use them to keep your mind silent. I never expected anything else from anyone, just loyalty. My mind was hollow, so I asked him, “what exactly are you sorry about.” He says, “everything.” I scoffed. Feelings are vague, the human mind is deep you never know when flowers become knives. I knew that I was broken already and nothing was going to fix me, so I rose, and removed all my clothes. Climbed the bed, laid on it and told him to do me, just exactly how he did her. He hesitated, I wondered why. He stuttered, “I can’t- - -I’m dirty.” I chuckled, “where was this dirty loyalty when you bared your soul into her, where was it when you poured your salt into her chalice?” It was funny, that I laughed myself into the bathroom.
I didn’t realize that I had been crying. It didn’t feel like tears. It did feel like a comedy because my soul was laughing, and my head was screaming in pain. There were voices, I couldn’t drown them, so I tried to reason with them, pay them a price to be silent. But they didn’t oblige, they wanted blood. Revenge for the one who made me this way, the one who broke my soul. My eyes cleared and I noticed he was still here, I didn’t know what else he was doing here. Like a vulture inspecting a carcass before dinner, I suppose. He was inspecting the person he broke, I’m certain he’s proud of his work. This was his best canvass yet. A masterpiece. So I let him enjoy the view, I screamed, ranted, cried, and laughed myself into madness. Then I stood up, took a hot shower, wore my clothes and walked out into the darkness. I’ll never be complete I knew, but at least I’ll keep walking till I become sane again. Sanity is walked for.