It’s time to let you go…

Once upon a time I had your shirt, countless pictures and screen shots of our text convos. When I moved, I threw your shirt away. I felt somewhat guilty about it, after all, it was your favorite. But… You broke my heart so I suppose you deserve it. None the less, I just couldn’t delete the photos. I told myself it was okay to keep them. Why? I don’t know. I suppose part of me wasn’t ready to let go of the stories they told… Like the time I made enchiladas and instead of cooking for two, I made enough for a small army. Or the time you asked me to “officially” be your girlfriend. Or the time we went on a 400 mile road trip after I bought my new car. Or the night you told me you loved me… The text convos are even worse because they’re not just memories, they’re your words… They’re the promises you made and broke. They’re proof of all the things you said but didn’t mean… In black and white, they tell the story of you telling me how much you love me, that you’re going to marry me someday and that you woke up at 4 a.m. and texted to tell me how much you love and miss me… It was pure adoration. So much so that anyone who’s ever read them ends up asking the million dollar question “What happened?” and a pure sadness comes over them when I don’t have an answer… They’re in awe that someone like that, someone so funny and kind and in love could wake up one day and just leave… I’ve mentioned this before but we all waited anxiously for months. Family and friends kept me holding on whenever I claimed I was done waiting. “He’ll figure it out, he’ll come back, I know he will!” they would say… But he didn’t. He walked away without looking back I guess… Or if he did, I wouldn’t know… So tonight, I deleted them. Every last one. I read the messages and looked at the pictures… I smiled and laughed at times, all the while tears stream down my cheeks. I have cried for hours. What came over me? Why tonight? I don’t know… All I know is I made the decision that it had to be done and off I went. My breathing resembles that of my panic attacks. My chest feels tight and my heart feels… Empty. Broken. I’m thankful the delete button does not come with a “undo” feature. Or if it does I don’t want to know. I will never know why you left or why you didn’t come back. I will never know how or why my heart led me so far in the wrong direction and allowed me to feel such pain… What I do know is that God has a plan for me and I’ll go to bed, say my prayers and wake up tomorrow to face another day. Thus, this is where I leave you. 

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