The Day I Died

by: Sarah Fader

What little can prepare one for an “energetic pull into nothingness,” and for the crushing blow that follows the day you find yourself alone…

I died

Numb, That’s how I feel or, more aptly put, don’t feel. I remember how you touched my face with a promise of “we’ll work this out.” That came later, after you kissed me hard on the mouth and told me that you loved me. The memories all blend together and I can’t tell April from June from July. You make no sense to me now, even though once I thought you did. I remember thinking that we made sense together, but when I tried to tell you that you ran away.

So where does that leave me?

That leaves me here, at the side of the road trying to find a way home with no shoes on, crying my face off. You caressed it once, and you told me we would work it out. I realize I’ve said that already. That I’ve said all these things so many fucking times that I’m sick of my words, my voice and my feelings. Nobody wants to hear how I feel, and by nobody, I mean you.

I am nobody to you. That was made clear by your actions, or lack of actions, and it isn’t fair that I put everything into this vortex we called a relationship. That chaotic storm swallowed me up, disappeared all that I put into us, and I wasn’t prepared to die. Wasn’t ready for such an energetic pull into nothingness because when you left, there was so much for me still to say.

I died the day you left.

The day you couldn’t, didn’t, wouldn’t show up for me. I fucking died. And the worst part is that you didn’t even notice. My gravestone was there at your feet, yet it was invisible to you. You jumped into your car with glazed, careless eyes, turned the key and drove away slowly.

My death didn’t matter to you.

I didn’t matter to you.

I’m in the ground now, cognizant that one day I’ll come back to life, but unaware of the time or place. My eyes are closed and I cannot feel anymore. Good and bad, love and hate, anger and sadness, they all feel the same to me, because I am dead.

I once told you that if I died no one would care. You told me that wasn’t true, and I believed you.

I believed you.

You.

I’ll be okay, I promise. I just have to dig myself out of this coffin,  spit out the dirt and claw my way back to the surface.

Every single time you apologized to me I laughed internally. It was funny how little you understood me let alone yourself. I didn’t mean to laugh, really, but it was all I could do to cope with the pain.

I’ll be alright, I promise.

Just don’t kill me again.

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