I had to let go of my closest friend and confidant 15 months ago—my ride or die, my rock.
The one that comforted me, gave me confidence and made me feel okay inside:
My heroin, my needle, my Jameson.
With you I felt adequate.
I thought we’d be together forever.
My life got worse and worse.
I lay there on the dirty bathroom floor—dying.
But still I would not see it.
I could not let you go.
I clung to you.
Fear and hopelessness had me shackled to you.
I fought and fought, and tried so hard to find a way to make it work between us, but there just was no way.
It was toxic, but I denied it to myself over and over—for years.
So many friends had tried to show me, to tell me.
It didn’t matter. I couldn’t see until I was beaten into opening my eyes.
Until I was beaten into submission and reason.
Too proud to ask for help—
To admit I was dying inside.
Only then could I stop and consider that maybe, just maybe, there was a better way.
That maybe there was hope for me too.
I found myself dark, alone, desperate and beaten as I pried you from my own half dead hands and said goodbye.
I walked away, and I haven’t looked back since.
I came to in a sunlit room two days later. I was finally safe.
I was free.
I smiled for the first time in years.
I felt like I survived a war.
I still miss you some days, when the emotions get heavy and I feel as though I might drown.
When I feel overwhelmed, like a child trying to play at adult life, and I am scared. I miss you.
When rejection creeps up and I feel like a failure, I crave you.
But I am happy these days without you, and I accept that we cannot see each other.
That we can no longer dance together, because I no longer want to die.
I never thought I wouldn’t want you in my life.
But now I don’t.
I choose to live.
I choose the light.
I loved you when I believed I was not worth more.
Now I love myself enough to live free of you.
To truly live.
Author: Lindsay Carricarte
Editor: Toby Israel
Photo: Flickr/ urbansnaps – kennymc