I thought writing him out would work... I don't know why. I should have known there's no pulling out the roots of a tree that have grown so deep. I can no longer see where they begin, or where they end. I only know that I feel the depth they have grown. Like those roots have wrapped around the core of my being and there's no way to extract him from my memories. Doing so would only damage the parts of me that remain. Even the parts that have grown and flourished without him. There are parts that are hidden by those roots. Rooted by everything I never said. Rooted by everything I never did. Wrapped tightly because of all the other things that had been done and said over the time we knew each other. A time long gone. Faded from memory. At least his. But, never mine. He was never mine, yet his memory haunts me like a ghost that has latched on to the only remaining thing that mattered in life. I'm only tormented by myself and I know that in my heart. The visions I see of him are only there because I can't see to let them go. Let them free. Let myself be freed. Only, I was.

I remember so clearly, there was a time he never crossed my mind. Days, weeks, years. I could hear his name and I didn't cringe. I could see his smile and not feel the breath being pulled from my lungs. I could have been around him, without feeling like a clam at low-tide. Now, I feel pecked at from miles away. Like there's a seagull I can't see, trying to tear me out of my shell. Miles between then and now. I can't count the miles because I can't stand thinking about them. About where we took that wrong turn. About the signs on the highway we so clearly ignored. If only we had looked around, we might have known we were approaching the edge of a cliff and going down. Only as we fell, it was freeing. For both of us. The finale of a series that should have never aired. The solution of a problem we invented for ourselves. Never meant to be, him and I. Not as friends. Lovers. Or anything else. We're nothing more than strangers now, the way we always should have been. Names that blow in the wind. Faces that only come when we're lost in a dreamland. Unrecognizable. I'm sure that I am to him. But he's still etched into the way my mind tries to forget him. Like every attempt is only pushing him further into my core. Every time I pull a flower from that proverbial garden, I'm only giving those roots more room to grow.

If I had a time machine, I'd go back to the day I first laid eyes on you. Like it was yesterday, I remember the smile on your face. Her hand in yours and the way you were so in love. The way nothing else mattered. And I'd say nothing and simply walk away. So that I never would matter to you, or you to me. Because despite the time, the distance and everything in between the two: You'll always matter to me. It only kills me because I know I've never crossed your mind since. That those roots are just left behind from a tree that swayed on without me: A forgotten memory.
Rooted Rooted Reviewed by Ali Larsen on March 10, 2020 Rating: 5

No comments:

Powered by Blogger.