I was moving on. There was too much out there left unseen. I couldn’t just settle. She always said so herself. I loved her, but how could I really be sure she was the one. That thought always scared the shit out of me.
So I left. And quickly. There was a reason that I gave to her, but to this day I can’t remember what it was. It wasn’t important. This was about me. Her feelings, how the actions I took could have destroyed her, were merely an afterthought. It never even crossed my fucking mind. It was selfish; but I didn’t know what else to do. I wasn’t even really sure what I was looking for.
Freedom, adventure, independence, random pussy. It didn’t matter. It was all just a fucking pipe dream anyway. Now, my whole life is. As I left her behind, I also left whatever sanity I still had. There have been good times since then, but they all could have occurred with her; and may have been even better shared between us. There has also been random pussy. Of course, nowhere near as much as I had imagined in my disillusioned mind. But I have been on the chase; and had a few successes. Maybe success is not the right word to describe them. The chubby one, the ugly one, and the bald one. I wasn’t all that concerned with their appearances. It was mostly for my own confidence. A poor attempt to justify my decision to leave the one I love. I considered them victories at the time. But the feeling never lasted; mostly it just turned to shame. I soon discovered that I wasn’t all that interested in sex. I wanted to make love; and what I was doing was solely fucking. I did my best to pretend I actually cared for the women I was with. I told them what they wanted to hear. Keeping in touch after the sex to make sure they didn’t feel used. But in all reality, they were nothing to me. Sometimes I tried to force some semblance of feelings for my partners, but all I could muster was the same care and concern I have for any random person I meet. They couldn’t compare to her.]]
So I embarked on this single journey looking to enrich my life with knowledge and personal narratives to be told; to pick up bits of life experience to add to my body and carry with me through the rest of my life. But when I left her, she must have held on to a very important piece of me, because I walked away with a hole in my body. Instead of picking up life experience along the way, I was constantly trying to fill the hole with whatever I could find. But like any thing in your body that doesn’t belong, the random pieces were broken down and disposed of. And the cycle continued. I was left searching for anything that could temporarily amend the structural integrity of my body, my life. Nothing proved to be sufficient. Not alcohol. Not gambling. Not sex. I’m still there now. Not much has changed. Only now, I realize that stuffing the hole in my body with anything that will fit will never fix me. And soon, unless I can retrieve the piece of me that she holds, I will surely collapse. But I’m stuck. I don’t know whether I should go back to pick up my missing piece or let myself go. We’re all born with a will to live, and it is only natural to seek out a means of survival; but if i do return to her for my missing piece, it can’t be for me. Not another selfish act. I have to be sure that I’m making the best decision for her. Seems unlikely now, looking at the bleak picture that is my life. Only now, as I am writing this, am I beginning to realize that the piece missing from my body was never my own. She didn’t hold on to any part of me when I left. The hole in my body is the space that she once filled. She is the missing piece that fits perfectly, providing essential support and in perfect organic equilibrium as not to be rejected by my body. I finally see it. I was no different than anyone else who exists in this world without their true counterpart. We’re all walking around with a missing piece that threatens our livelihood. Naturally we make it our first priority to to find it. Now, I can only pray that our God is not a cruel one; that I, too, am her missing piece.