Work Text:
Tyler.
Oh, Tyler.
It should’ve been over by now.
I shouldn’t feel like this.
Three months and 7,500 miles should have been it.
But, that’s not how things have happened.
And I knew that.
Knew it when your voice trembled upon the word ‘forever’. And knew it when ‘I love you’s sounded like I was pulling teeth.
Nonetheless, I sit.
The wood chips underneath my feet do little to actually stop me from pressing my feet into the ground. I know, I could just force my legs the other way; make them slow my pace down on the swings.
But I kind of enjoy the threat of splinters in my feet; shooting inside and jolting me awake.
That doesn’t happen, unfortunately.
I just sit here and absorb.
Take in the words for what must be the 30th time.
“I just don’t think this makes sense.” You said.
“I hope you understand.”
I didn’t.
I don’t.
I keep replaying everything.
Maybe if I had responded to your words differently, if I had smiled more at what you had to say, it would’ve stopped you.
But, now, you’re gone.
Catching my breath used to come easy. Swinging in the dark in this barely-used park never had an impact on my lungs.
But now I’m heaving.
One would think that the air would have replenished my lungs with each kick of my heels into the wood chips.
At least, honestly, I did.
But it hasn’t worked.
I torture myself with the sensations.
You would have hated that. You would have made me promise that I wouldn’t.
But, without you?
Who cares.
You don’t see the aftermath. You don’t get to hear the way my breath catches with each sliver that makes its way inside my body.
And, that’s okay.
I think that it is all okay.
I blamed you.
I hated you; I wished you would feel what I did.
But then realization dawned on me.
It only happened weeks ago.
But I finally realized that if I were you, if I were the one dealing with every part of me, I would call things off, too.
I would distance myself.
I would ignore calls, texts, facetimes. Act like I was too busy and my own boyfriend got away from me.
Tisk, tisk.
That isn’t true.
My partner would never be the last thing on my mind.
But, I was for you.
And that is so okay, Ty.
Being the crutch for someone is fucking exhausting.
Being the crutch for me likely could only be described as debilitating.
So, while I sit on this swing and push myself back and forth with a force you just could not muster yourself for weeks, I can’t help but wonder.
Are you breathing now, Tyler?