Feeling: shredded
Listening to: "An Honest Mistake," by The Bravery
Reading/Watching: --

So I opened an old theater pictures folder, looking for a photo of myself in costume. And right there at the top was a picture of you, looking into the camera and smiling right through the lens at me. Your smile in publicity photos, with other people, with anyone, was always different from the smile you had for me.

And as always, it made my veins shiver a little, and I clicked past the pictures in search of the one I needed. I pushed away any relevant thoughts, and focused on the task at hand.

But tonight, in the middle of a crowded, noisy club, when I went to the bathroom and looked into the mirror, I saw it in my eyes.

That moment, when we were driving back from dinner with friends, when I was taking you back to your hotel room at the conference, and my husband called. He was frantic, and furious, and shouting questions and accusations, and you knew nothing because I wouldn't say a word, but you watched my knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. I remember how you made a half-gesture, wanting to touch my hand, but afraid to make me lose control of the car.

And finally the phone call ended, and I pulled over in front of your hotel, and crumbled. I babbled. I apologized. I raved and sobbed and fell apart, because he was making me choose. He was demanding that I give you up, and I couldn't bear it.

You took my hand then, and made me look at you. Your eyes were so confident, they pulled me right in, even though I was embarrassed of everything, with my makeup streaming down my cheeks. And while I was still there, locked in you, you said "You. will never. lose me. I am here, no matter what you decide. I will support any decision you make."

And here we are. Neither of us knew how hard this would become. Neither of us knew how crazy my ex would prove to be, even as I promised you that I would do everything in my power to keep you safe, that he wouldn't come anywhere near you. But he wasn't man enough to deal with me, with himself, with us, with the real problem. Instead he came after you, the scapegoat.

And yes, I lost you. You made a promise you couldn't possibly keep, given the circumstances, and I don't blame you. I just wish I could apologize. I wish I could explain how sorry I am, that you got sucked in, that you got hurt, that you had your life set on fire and watched the roof cave in on you, all because you promised not to leave me. I am sorry that I couldn't keep you safe. I am sorry that I wasn't strong enough to let you go in time. I held on to you as the building burned around us.

But now I understand, and I love you enough (in whatever capacity) to let you stay gone. You need to rebuild, you need to live, and there is far too much wreckage to clear. I miss you so much that I'm Bella in New Moon, walking dead, a shell around this screaming hole, so that a song or a picture or even a phrase will rip out the stitches. I may not have the luxury of falling apart like her, but believe me, the hole whistles every time I try to breathe around it.

Yes, I love you enough to care about you above myself. And yes, I will let you go.

But please God, help me. If this hole can't be filled the traditional way, I'm going to need you. Because sooner or later, I'm going to need a heart again, and I'm not strong enough to yank it out where it's embedded. You'll have to build it for me. Please God, help me.

Note: to those of you who know who he is, I am begging you not to say anything to him. Please. Just let it go. Don't mention it, don't ask questions, don't plead my case. Let it go.

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