Buried Next To Them

I am more than tired of losing people I love and care for. Whether the feelings are in the past, present, or future, that is one of my greatest annoyances and fears: to watch people go. Sure, a great constant is change, but must it always be the change of loosing people you are connected to, or even more profound feelings than that?
"All's well that ends well." If people are leaving, that is not ending well; therefore, all is not well. What's the point in putting time, emotions, effort, and yourself into things or people which/who are only destined to disappear? Other than "building character" or heightening your pain tolerance. It gets old.

I feel empty when people go, for whatever reason. Even if they don't go physically (moving, or dying...). It's like intently reading a book, devoting your energy, mind, and heart to it, and then suddenly, it turns to ashes. Where do you go? You just stare at the pile of dust and debris, watch different shapes of memories shift in your mind, and are reminded of how, yet again, you are alone. Where do I go? I reach desperately for the past and long for it to be my future. Literally speaking, I keep little reminders which contain sentimental value. Every now and again, I'll come upon them, and desire to be back at that moment in time.
I bury my isolation and am surrounded in it. A little while later, I pick up a different book, and start the process all over again.

The thing is, if I am constantly in fear or apprehension of the time me and a person spend ending, I cannot reap the benefits of the time we do spend together in the now. I do try to savor each and every memory, glance, laugh, deep conversation, touch... yet, in the depths of my heart, I am in predestined pain. The definition of "forever" has changed to "however long it is convenient."
Then, on to the next, down among a million same. But every single ******* person, every one of them!, is special to me. Not just another face, another soul... Someone unique, unable to be created the same way again. Our experiences together could never be repeated the exact way. At least if they're around, I could have a hand to reminisce with, a body to remind me daily of all the experiences we've shared, for good or bad. A part of me is sent six feet underground each time they rot away, only to remain in my mind.

I close my book, and open my eyes to reality. They all want me to accept and enjoy this reality, but my heart will always shake its fist and head in disagreement.
DustToAshes DustToAshes
22-25, F
1 Response Jul 21, 2010

Your story made me want to cry because it's so close to my own life and how I feel. Thanks for writing this, so much.