This is what it feels like looking back – on love (‘love’) through the lens of borderline personality disorder…
Like the only air in the room came from between your lips.
Like every cell in my body had hands that were reaching for yours.
Like nothing would be okay until I knew we were breathing our final breaths together – only then would I know that you cared enough.
No love without death.
The darkest of fantasies, played out in the daylight. Ugly from every angle but one.
How could I have called it love? Or was it? Maybe I was right to use the word. Though now, all it reeks of is obsession. Desperation. Fear. Breathless and dark and smothering.
It felt like I could take all the blows life could lay on me – as long as it was you giving them to me.
He hit me and it felt like a kiss.
What a load of fucking bullshit.
He hit me and it felt like… he hit me.
And the darkness didn’t make it real. It just made it dark.
And the love/hate didn’t make it romantic. It made it exhausting.
And the games didn’t make it fun. They made it petty and cheap.
And our whole culture keeps buying into it. Love hurts. Love scars. Love wounds and mars.
Love does not hurt. Love does not scar.
Love feels like the rock beneath your bare feet.
Like the roots of the lone tree still standing after the storm.
Like spring’s buds reaching for sunshine after an endless winter.
Light that may be covered but never goes out. Not really.
Love builds and stretches towards the sky, ever higher.
That’s love. And you and I never had it. Thank you for showing me what I need and what I don’t.