"I miss the hell out of you, beloved. I wish I could see you."
"Soon, I hope," he texts back with his bleeding fingers, nails ripped off or rotting away.
"Soon."
It has been months since I have looked into his eyes. Months since I have heard his voice. Was it October? Or maybe it was September. I think it was September.
I was so overjoyed on that day, to see him, just for a moment. A minute, maybe two, at most.
I felt as though he had returned from the dead, as though I had one last chance to tell him I loved him. Even though he never did say it back. not once.
All the anger, the confused feelings, the betrayal, the fear, it all vanished because he was THERE and he was ALIVE and I could TOUCH him and SMELL him and feel those once-powerful ARMS wrapped around me. One last time.
Because I could never sure there would be another time.
I want to beg, and cry, and scream, "there is no SOON! There is only NOW! You are DYING. You're dying. And you've shut me out. Why. Why have you pushed me away. Was everything we went through just a bit of fun for you? All that I suffered. All that I sacrificed. All the ways I pushed myself, all the times you pushed me. All the times I pushed you. The tears, the screaming, the moments of tenderness. All of it. The scars I carry in my heart. Why have you pushed me away?"
But he would only rage, he would rage and he is too sick and tired to rage, now. He would cut me out even more. And I know it.
It was never healthy. It was deeply wounding. But it made me strong. So goddamned strong. And at the end of it all, while I cannot make excuses for some of the things that he did, I can understand why he did them. The moments, the steps, that lead him to that life. To thinking his way was the only way. I cannot excuse it, but I still feel compassion for the creature he became. I still love him, because even as twisted and sick as things often were, he had goodness in him, too. He had parts that were worthy of love. And he was learning. He was LEARNING.
But we lost that chance. That chance to do better. To learn a different way, together.
And maybe it saved me.
Maybe... once he is gone, maybe a part of myself will let out a breath, long-held, and know that I am safe. I am free. He won't ever be able to hurt me again, in the ways that he did.
But the loss will cut deep, too. I met the tiger outside his cage. I opened myself to the dragon's talons, and in time, that powerful beast who could kill me in seconds, he lowered his head and gave himself to me. I rode that dragon, I lifted us up. He bared his soul to me. Showed me the map of his broken becoming. And he tried to teach me how to survive.
He tried to groom me to become a predator, like him.
But I chose a different way. I chose, not to be a victim. Not to be a monster, either. I chose, not to prey, but to protect. Shield. Nurture. Heal.
He never had a chance to really see that those choices were possible. He never had a chance.
I wish I could have shown him the way, so he could walk the path.
Maybe in his next life, he will.
As for me, I am wounded but I am grateful. I learned to be so much stronger. I learned to ENDURE. I would never, ever, EVER want anyone to learn the way I did. But I made it. I survived, and I found my will. I made a choice- never again. Never again. Never again.
I will not be the dragon of despair. I will not be the dragon of manipulation, lies, suffering, fear, pain.
I will be the dragon of compassion. I will be the dragon who heals, who loves, who brings joy, growth, protection, wisdom, gods willing, and light.
He helped me to become what I am, but I did not become what he had designed.
I could confront him. Bang on his door. Tell him off. Make accusations.
But he is dying. He is dying, and he is deeply flawed, wounded, but beloved.
There is no need to punish him. I wouldn't wish what he is suffering on people far worse than he ever was. There is no need for vengeance. Only peace. Only mercy.
So mercy is what I hope for. I hope that I will have a chance to say goodbye. To take that massive head in my arms, to kiss that great brow. To tell him that it will be ok. I will heal. And I have grown strong. So very strong. To tell him that I will fight to live a little longer, myself.
I learned so much from him. So much of it was not what he intended, but I can still use it to help myself. To help others. I know the signs now. I know what to watch out for. I know what to say no to. What to never make excuses for again.
And I know how to endure.
I loved the beast. The beast was true to his nature. But I survived him. Survived, and even conquered, without becoming him.
And now, now he is a dying man. He doesn't want anyone to see that man, beneath the beast. The suffering, the weakness, the fear. I see him though. The secret is that I have always seen him. He never had to hide from me.
Dying without me is his choice. I must respect that. Consent should be freely given, and freely denied.
Another lesson he never quite learned. Consent was something to manipulate and force in his world. That was the game.
But I am not him. I am not him, and so, soon may very well never come.
And so I see him as already dead now, half the time. Maybe he intended it this way. Maybe he thought it would make it easier for me to let go. Maybe he'll come to life for me again, maybe not.
I was always his secret. I might only find out from Facebook, or perhaps a text message. It isn't right or fair, but it is what it is.
He will always be there, in my heart. I will carry with me the best of who he was, and the lessons I learned, from his failures and mine. In time, the wounds will heal. I will trust again. I will be hurt again, but I'll SURVIVE.
I'll survive, and I'll miss him.
Soon.
