The day you left... was the day I stopped breathing. My heart was torn from my chest, the twinkle from my eye, the wavelength from my brain, and the soul from my existence. The day you left... was the day I stopped living. That morning, I left for a funeral only to return to find you left for good. Nothing in the room was disturbed, nothing packed, nothing taken... but something left. A note that told me everything that I was afraid to hear. It said that you were leaving... that you were angry and full of hate... that you weren't attracted to me anymore, that it was inevitable, that you were on coke again..... that it was my fault. I panicked and started blowing up your phone, but there was no answer, so I went to the bus station hoping to find you... and there you were... sitting in the corner with two small bags and a book. I knew you didn't want me to beg you to stay, so I just asked if we could be friends. See, there was a lot I didn't beg from you because I knew it would be an inconvenience... even if it meant me being torn up inside. Like the first time I found the remnants of your cocaine usage in your pants pocket and I let you lie to me about what it was... instead of begging for you to just be honest with me. Instead of begging you to please not give in to the temptation of not being able to feel for just that little while. See, I would picture the worst extreme of you sitting in a dark candle-lit corner with a belt around your arm and a needle stuck in your vein. I would picture you fifty pounds lighter, dark circles around your eyes, track marks all over your body, you trembling while drenched in sweat. That little piece of baggie with white residue still inside..... gave me my worst nightmares. But I let it go... so you wouldn't be bothered by telling me the truth. All those times you were hours late coming home from work without so much as a phone call... I sat by the window as I did when I was a little boy waiting for my alcoholic father to come pick me up. I called all of the hospitals and police stations between your work and our home... just to make sure you were okay. You always had a good lie to cover up your snorting those lines... the lines that would destroy us. I knew... but i just let it go so you wouldn't be bothered to tell me the truth. The day you left was the day I started blaming myself... for everything. Things that were my fault, things that were your fault, things that couldn't be stopped. But then I woke up. No, not from a dream, but woke up to realize that I'm not the one to blame. I'm not the one who chose to lie and deceive... to put powder up my nose so I could escape reality even for just twenty minutes because I couldn't handle the pressures..... of life. Even though my world was shattered from you being gone, I still dealt with life. I still went to school, still took care of my mother, my dogs, and myself... I didn't let the pressures of the world stop me from doing what I needed to do for me. And though I didn't think it possible, the day you left... was the day I kept living.
~Steve Denmark
July 25, 2011
