Swing

His name was Jesse.
I had moved away from him that year.

He was my almost friend.
We'd known each other for years.
He was supposed to care for me, even if he didn't like me.
He was supposed to warn me about her.
She pretended to be my friend.
He knew what she had in mind.
He knew I told her everything.
Why didn't he say anything?
Why did he let her ruin me?
After all those years I took care of him.
I loved him.

She used me. She lied to me.
She told me we were friends.
I told her I loved him.
She told me she never even talked to him.
My friend tells me she hugs him, flirts with him.
I wasn't there to see it.
She told me it was nothing.
She told me it wasn't true.
I believed in her.
Because everyone said she was good.
An angel of sorts.

The computer screen is cold.
It freezes time.
A part of me knew this could only happen to me.
This nightmare of soap-operas.
Too bad to be ever be true.
It was happening to me.
"He asked me out...and I said yes."
There was never a warning.
She never thought about me.
I didn't matter.
In my head
"I knew it."
A scream
"I knew it"
A statement.
"I knew it"
A whimper.
But I wished it wasn't true.

I didn't cry right away.
I laid my head on my arm.
It was a long life I had lived.
I needed to rest.
It would haunt me in the night.
It will haunt me for the rest of my life.
But that was later.
I rested now.

I took a walk.
Walked to that park with the swings.
When I was little
People stopped pushing me on the swings.
Said I was too big.
No one taught me how to swing for myself.
I learned on my own.
But I never got very high.
He was supposed to save me.
Tell me I wasn't too big to be cared for.
Tell me I was good enough.
He was supposed to save me from the world's wrath.
He could have saved me from it all.
But he didn't.

I waited for him at that swing.
As if he knew he was supposed to come.
Waited for him to just show up.
And say it was all a mistake.
Tell me he would never leave me on my own.
Tell me he would never hurt me.
He would push me on the swing.
And take away my burden.
Bring me my peace.

I waited for him for the longest time.

I can't describe the feeling of hope that surged through me then.
It was the strongest feeling of hope.
And intense joy.
Hoping this soap-opera would just continue.
To a happy ending.
I let myself go.
I let myself believe for a few precious moments.
That all was not lost.

Everyone has to stop pretending at some point.
Everyone has to fall back down.
Everyone has to get off the swing.
Everyone has to walk back home.

She stopped talking to me after that.
She had what she wanted from me.
She used me to know more about him.
She pretended to like the things I did.
She acted like me.
Because so long as I was far away.
She could replace me in his eyes.

He couldn't look me in the eyes.
He wasn't the same as before.
He wasn't my savior.
He wasn't golden.
He was just ordinary.
He was lost to me.

That night I cried.
Cried for the longest time.
Cried until morning.
Cried for a year.
Stopped for a while.
Cried for another year.
And in my mind I asked my self.
"How long does it hurt?"
And the answer was always the same.
"Forever."

I had given him so much and he had taken more.
I realised he was never coming back for me.
He would never save me.
Nobody ever will.
I realised my life,
All my hopes and dreams.
It was all over.

And I fell.
In a way that didn't compare to any metaphor, simile, or hyperbole.
I fell simply.
Fell as a girl would
When she had no more strength left to do anything.
But fall.

I was weaker than I had ever been in my entire life.
I could not rise from this.
This time.
I couldn't just pick up the pieces.
They were scattered.
In space.
In time.
I wasted away.
I'm still lost.

It's been two years now.
And I feel like a part of me is still waiting for him.
Waiting for him at that swing.

It was the best part of me.
A part I wished I had right now.
A part that was filled through and through
With trust.
With hope.
With passion.
With innocence.
With youth.
With unconditional love.

That part of me still waits for him.
Waits for the longest time.

And I wish I could tell that part of me.
That strong lively girl.
To go home.
He will never come.
But I wouldn't want her to know.
I wouldn't want her to be where I am now after that realisation.
I wouldn't want her to be without all those things.
That makes life worth living.
I wouldn't want to be the one to tell her.
She isn't good enough.
I hope with all my heart.
She lives on to wait for him forever.
Foolishly.
Happily.

But the rest of me has to move on.
Though I no reason to live on.
Life goes on.
I'll find the reason.