I did more than just survive.

For an incredibly long five years, I loved him.

I loved him hard and almost blindly. And not necessarily in a bad way, but in a way that allowed me to do so blissfully. Blissfully ignorant to the months worth of signs that he plastered around our home disguised as weekends away with the boys.

When he finally decided to leave, he did more than just break me. I shattered.

But I did more than just survive. I picked up every last shard of myself off of the ground and put them back together into some sort of mosaic that reflected just enough light to attract you -- drawing you in to the same exact warmth that had forced him to run away in the first place.

Instead, you tightly embraced me until you were engulfed in my flames. So suddenly and so easily we became fire. What we had was fire. One that warmed the deepest parts of our souls, shining brightly on the darkest parts of ourselves so that for once we could feel as if we were finally seen, proving to us that the cold that surrounded our being was nonexistent. It was the type of fire that was supposed to be contained but that we knew at any second could run wild, flinging sparks every which way, threatening to set the world, our world ablaze. A flame so mesmerizing that we just could not, would not look away.

And for an incredibly fast sixteen months, I loved you.

I will never understand why my heart is so much braver than me because it loves without fear even though we know better.

I'm not sure when or why the wind shifted. But when it did, it blew the smoke straight from our very own flames into our own faces. Stinging our eyes and searing our throats until we just couldn't breathe anymore, choking on the byproducts of our infatuation. And somehow even though we were the fire, we got burned.

Tell me -- how do you pick up the pieces and put yourself back together again when they aren't simply shards this time, they are ashes?

Comments

"We are sorry, you did not match to any position."

For the very first time today I can finally say that I understand Passive suicidal ideation. An abstract symptomatology Now clear as day As I sit here wishing that I wasn’t Trying to scream for help But unable to catch enough air to do so. It took me over 57 hours To admit to my parents that my lifelong dream, My 3 degrees and now almost 4, Those 9 straight years of missing out, And half a million dollars of student debt Has all surmounted to nothing. I have been in this constant cycle Of holding my breath Waiting to exhale while I Work, and wait, and hope That everything I have done and endured and accomplished Would in someone else’s universe Be enough. I am adaptable, compassionate, and resilient. My hands are warm. They are steady. And they are talented. I am an unrelenting advocate for my patients and my peers and for wellness. I have given every ounce of myself to Every single team I have ever been apart of And it seems that I have ...

Thank you, Dr. Franklin.

At the recommendation of my counselor and the request of my dear friend, Cindy, I have been tasked to write about you. Yet, I have been sitting here for days. I have been trying to figure out what to say, trying to muster up the strength to sit face to face with this grief and carry the weight of this heavy heart. How do I come to terms with the fact that there is absolutely no possible way to put into words -- words that you will now never get to hear -- exactly what and how much you mean to me? But you, Dr. Franklin, would simply not stand for hesitancy, for stagnation. And I can almost guarantee that you would not want the tears. You would expect and demand action. So while I can't promise you that it will be as pretty as the sutures you taught me to throw or as clean as the gallbladder fossa s/p lap chole, here I am and I am moving.

Empty

I feel so empty here. I thought that I would find my place but All that I have now is space, so empty. Floating in the background of everyone else's lives only to be Called to the front when they need something from me. When there is something they need to take and yet Every single time I give it all away so easily. Without hesitation, I give you a piece Breaking off a piece of my soul that I keep trading as a bargaining chip That I'm hoping you'll take to accept me. But you never even wanted me in the first place. I was only brought here to take up space. My existence is only of interest because thrifting has become a fad. And second-hand goods now make you look trendy. So use me up to make yourself feel more desirable. And return me to this empty space when you're done, leaving me Stale. And musty. Don't worry. I'll clean myself up as usual.

Oh Kay

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