Harbor

I harbor a lot of guilt within me.  I hold on to it as if it were meant to be a part of me.  As much as I try to push it away, to forget…to let go….it lingers.  I can feel it tearing at my heart strings….pulling on my emotions like a puppeteer.  Over the years, I’ve learned to control it.  I’ve learned to not lose control of this weathering demon.  At first, I felt as though I couldn’t hold on.  My mind raced every moment I laid awake and my dreams were plagued by the memories of you and I.  Death would have been sweet gift given by a swift act of mercy.  Instead, I chose to fight on and struggle through this murky water of emotion.  I’ve learned.  I’ve learned.  I’ve learned.

I’ve learned the quality of love and the risks of taking a leap of faith. The year we were to wed, I chose to leap away from you.  I chose another direction because my internal compass no longer pointed to you.  I thought I could find my way back eventually.  I thought that you would always be there to light my path.  I kept secrets in my heart while I watched you cry.  I believed that what I was doing was in the best interest of both of us.  In all honesty, I never thought this path would turn into a beaten down dusty trail incapable of safe passage.  I thought I would make my way safely back to you.  Safely back to us.  I thought.  I thought.  I thought. 

Deep breaths…serenity…peace…hope.
Three years and nine days has passed since I chose this path… since I took this leap.  I haven’t forgotten anything about you.  It’s been two years, three months, and eighteen days since I chose to hope for the future rather than regret the past.  It doesn’t come easily.  I still think of our stolen moments every day.  I think of our failed plans of marriage every September 25th.  I still dream of your beautiful blue eyes and blonde hair.  Many times I awaken feeling drunk, awkward…uncertain of what it means to have those stolen moments refreshed in my mind.  Why can’t they be like any other dream…forgotten in seconds left with the Sandman?  I count the moments that it has taken me to get to this place.  I count the steps it has taken me to walk across the bridge from where my first leap began. I count the small moments untarnished by the hurt I’ve caused us.  I count. I count. I count.

Deep inside I will always harbor guilt and pain for us.  Not that I do not want to part with it…but that I don’t know if I can ever let go.  If I let go, does that mean your memories will elude me, that I am to be forgiven for all wrong doing?  This place seems safe.  I understand it.  I understand the value of love and the meaning of taking a risk.  It is not something borrowed that can be returned at anytime.  It’s taken without provocation or thought.  It’s captured in an instant because it is valued higher than something else.  But is its value the same as another’s worth?  I understand this place.  I understand this guilt.
I understand. I understand. I understand.