Apathy.

I held on to you for so long. And when I braved the let go, I did something I didn't quite mean: I released myself, as well. 

All my life, I held on to something - anything - that could act as an anchor, tethering my actions to some core component of who I was. Something steadfast, resolute.

Now I'm afraid that piece of myself has disintegrated, evaporated, dissipated, and I'm left clutching onto a weight pulling be further and further downwards.

This is not to say that you were keeping me stable, and now I'm off the rails. It is not to place blame. It is not  even to say that you were ever good for me.  It is only to say that the two events happened more or less simultaneously - one single act of letting go - and now I am this person, not attached to anyone or anything, moving blindly through the world. 

And I should tell you that this detachment I live with - live by - has been paying off. It has allowed those boys, who came and swiftly left, to go mostly unnoticed; it has allowed me to face the ending of a chapter with little grief; it has allowed me to slip into semi-comatose. Functioning, but not feeling. 

It is both freeing and deadening to admit that there is nothing inside of you to care for the ones who walked away; nothing there to hold you back from walking out yourself. 

I wish my heart was still full -- I thought I could believe, forever.
It seems forever came too soon. 

S. 

{Photo: Flickr Amanda Adam}