The Worst Part For Me: Being Set Free


You could ask me what the worst part of it was and I could give you a million answers to just that single question alone.

I could say it was coming alive under another’s touch or finding out that home was not a place but rather the refuge I found in their arms.

I could say it was unrequited emotion and falsely uttered things, which I was foolish enough to believe. Once again.

I could tell you it was seeing their individual beauty in the dark and claiming every inch of it as my own and mine alone. Marking my territory as if it was my God-given right.

I could admit it was being wrong when I was so convinced that this time I was right, or professing to the shock I felt as it all came crashing down, for I never saw it coming. No, not this time…

Yet none of those things are half so bad (not by far) as realising that as it ends before it ever really began, my greatest sin in their eyes was that I came along too soon and caught them completely off-guard.

It is accepting and understanding that, although I could always only see so much potential in even the harshest pieces of another’s soul, it was simply never enough.

It was not about my total acceptance for them but rather my lack of disregard. Perhaps that was my fault all along, I guess I’ll never really know.

Maybe it was caring too fully and never thinking twice about it because that is just the way I am.

It is my inability to regret even a single thing and yet simultaneously, wishing I had not a moment left with them now to recall.

It is knowing that if I could banish every trace, memory and ounce of emotion from my mind, body and life, I would do so without even pausing to think.

It is cringingly admitting to myself, as tears cascade down my ice cold face, that I would forgive in the flicker of a heartbeat, for mine has always been so steady and sure… but theirs was irregular and restless and it beats to an entirely different course.

It is knowing that I will love with just as much freedom the next time this emotion comes knocking at my door – but that it will never again be reserved just for them.

It is the sigh of acceptance as the truth finally sinks in and I concede I was mistaken all along, that I might have seen too much potential for them to bear. In us, in them… In everything.

No one believed they were good enough for me, except for me… It turns out everyone else was right but do you know something? I’ll always deny it at all costs.

But none of these are the worst yet to come, no, not by far… the worst is knowing that everywhere I turn, I am haunted by the memory of their face, which I have come to know better than I know my own.

It is remembering the way their hand fits against my own or the way we danced in a darkened room, so hidden from view.

It is finally walking away because there is nothing more left for me to say or do. There is nothing left to find that will not bring me here again to this most desolate confine.

But that is not the worst… not yet, not by far. For, you see, the worst part of all is that… I gave them all I had – and yet still, all they could do was set me free.



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