Demise: A Short Essay About Loving and Losing

This is what it feels like to love and lose

It’s hard to explain the love I had for him. A twisted, dark and winding path through the heart and mind. One that few might ever understand. He had an esoteric heart, and a beautifully warped soul. Love itself became something undefined with him. In his presence, I felt as if I might hate him for a lifetime. In his absence, I mourned the loss of something I could not put my finger on. It was like a mystical type of thing that kept fluttering in and out. I could see it all with clarity, but I couldn’t quite solve the truth of everything in front of me. My heart yearned for something that only he could give to me, and I could not comprehend what that might be. How was it possible to so thoroughly love and hate someone all at the same time? How was it possible to be so completely fucking damaged by someone and still crave a love they never meant to give?

I always felt so alive in the midst of this chaotic, passionate collision of the two of us.

The intensity of our relationship was such a powerful force that there were times I felt I might rip apart in a thousand directions. A ravishing mess, torn to pieces and scattered to the universe, never to be whole again. This was the nature of us. A perpetual need to understand what was transpiring, and having absolutely no understanding at all. Yet I always felt so alive in the midst of this chaotic, passionate collision of the two of us. I don’t know if it was love by any traditional standard. The emotions were so heavy that I often felt that I might suffocate under the weight of them. Some would call it an addiction. Others would lament that I was already damaged to need this kind of love. But I knew the truth. It was a conscious and intentional choice. I knew exactly what I was doing. I was a masochist, and I was lost in the depths of him.

To me that was exactly what love was meant to be. It is a complete madness and losing of one’s self to intense emotion. It only showcased everything that truly loving someone entailed. He was fractured in every possible way, and his wickedness drew me in. I had pledged my allegiance, and I was drunk in love. I know that I had never felt anything like it, and I was more than willing to surrender myself to it. The first taste of him was something I could have chased for an eternity. Nothing was ever enough. I could never have enough of him. I had to ask myself, to what end would I continue to follow this delirium? Forever might have been possible had it not been for the splintering apart of everything I was.

I was enamored by the fire we created, but each time I came into contact, I was less and less capable of withstanding the burn.

By the end of him and I, I was a shell of the girl I had been when we met. And he was still no closer to realizing who he was. A tragic victim of a love that was both intoxicating and fatally toxic. An obsession that eventually broke everything open as it simultaneously went up in flames. I was enamored by the fire we created, but each time I came into contact, I was less and less capable of withstanding the burn. Eventually there were only the ashes that remained. This love was nothing short of an enigma. We were all wrong for each other, and yet we were both too right. Nothing lasts forever, and we were no exception. An attraction that potent was destined to fail simply because it existed. After all, no one could withstand a lifetime of a love like that. Not even I, the craver of things dark and twisted. Eventually, it all became too much, too strong, and we imploded.

I was broken, and torn. I had become unrecognizable to myself. There was nothing resembling the person I had known all those years. My thoughts were no longer the same, and my wants had evolved to monstrous ideals I could no longer rationalize. I would never be put back together in the same ways, and I was distraught with mourning for the girl I had poisoned with so many lies. I had allowed her to slowly die, and I watched intently as she slipped away. She had not gone quietly, but I had callously refused to save her. I quietly observed the demise with eyes wide open, and there was no one else to blame for her painfully torturous death. I was responsible for her destruction, and no one else. It was I who had force fed her the toxins as she burst into flames, and it was I who had watched her expire.

What does not kill you…

Still, I see the shadow of that girl so full of life cast across the rubble of what he and I had become, and I can’t help but wonder how this had happened to her. Could she be revived, or had I waited too long? What had she been sacrificed for? What had I truly gained? There I stood, empty handed. The girl I loved was gone. The boy I loved was not mine to keep. There was only the experience, the pain, and a life in the throes of chaos that remained. I had been gluttonous in my pursuits, and was now the aggrieved survivor.

There is a hunger inside of me that may never be filled. I am starved for all that was lost. I can see our life together unfold in my memories, and I wonder how we ended up here. It is a bittersweet feeling to know what was, to feel it all at once, and to watch it all fade out as if it never existed. I’m terrified that nothing else will ever occupy me as completely. I’m afraid that nothing else will ever intrigue my soul and captivate my curiosity so wholly. I am alone and aimless.

I know that I had never felt so strongly of being a living, breathing part of the universe as I did during my total demise. And now there is this emptiness, a black hole void of all things. I wonder what is to become of me…


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