Frenzied

It's been a long time. Too long for my liking. I've been so busy with school that I haven't gotten chance to write a sentence until tonight! This is a short piece inspired by a song. Hope you enjoy :)

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I loved him.

I loved him so much that sometimes I thought the feelings inside me weren’t love. They were some sort of an obsession, desperation to be loved, or loving. They crept inside of me like a fire, burning me whole, and erasing every possible logic and rationality in my mind. When I closed my eyes, all I saw was him. All I saw were his eyes, the vivid green I had committed to memory. All I could feel were his hands on me, the passion behind his warm gaze, his lips on my skin. I felt him. Felt him as if he was part of me, as if he was another half of me, as if he held onto the other side of my heart. I remembered everything about him. Remembered his voice, the low whisper in my ear as he trembled in my arms, as he broke over and over again while I drowned in a high that I never wanted to sober up from. He was everything to me. Every step he took, every breath he took, every word, every touch.

Sometimes, I feared these feelings would be the end of me. I felt empty when he wasn’t there; as if he had taken my soul to wherever he was going. I felt as if my body didn’t belong to me anymore, as if every part of me was his. I was his. Everything, everything was his. I loved him to a point of destruction, to a point that the thought of him being gone would kill me.  Life without him wasn’t life. Life without him was a meaningless path, a dead end.

I knew it wasn’t normal. I knew the insanity and self-destruction behind these so-called feelings I had for him would one day really kill me. I knew that being so attached to someone would bound to get me hurt, to break me to millions of pieces with a point of no return. I knew but I couldn’t careless.  Nothing mattered but him. Nothing mattered but his hands, his touch, his gaze on me. He could kill me, could lie to me, yet it wouldn’t matter. Nothing but my love for him mattered.

There were moments where I questioned myself. Questioned whether I even existed. Whether everything in my head was some sort of an illusion, where I was not there and that it was a dream that I just couldn’t wake up from. I waited, wanted to wake up from the insanity, from this addiction, from a nightmare that depicted a dream. Yet, no matter how long passed, I swam in the sea of him and he never let go of my hand. My eyes were closed in bliss, in a calm that only he could bring me to.  I never wanted to open those eyes again. I started to believe this nightmare like dream as if it was reality. I smiled, laughed, cried, and burned with happiness I never felt in my life.  He was my reality. He was real. Everything about him was as real as it could get. There was no way it could have been a lie. I’d never survive if it weren’t.

But my eyes opened one day. They opened and he was gone. They opened and I stood a shadow of myself. They opened and I felt an empty hollow. They opened and I no longer felt anything at all.

~H.~