Why do you keep coming back? We are from different layers of the stratosphere, which makes us at odds of ever aligning. My soul craves yours, but my cry is met with indifference. Self-inflicted loneliness can be torture, but I love you and always have despite, at times, my self-denials. This has dragged on for what seems like an eternity – three years, to be precise –rendering it to a slimy, stagnant mould that can never amount to anything except folly.
You keep reappearing through our chance encounters, keeping alive a flame that can never be fully lit and an allusion that should be long forgotten now. Could it be that there is a light in me that speaks to your hungry soul or unfinished business that is unwilling to let go? There has to be some reason rather than arrogance on my part in thinking you are my fate. Having said that, you are bewitching, charming and funny. You also have been a great teacher.
I know you are busy and devote much of your time to seeking money, sex and a life that you think will win you approval from those around you. I have few answers about you. I hardly know you, really. How could I when you have camouflaged everything with lies? Instead, I am left with unanswered questions and assumptions, which aren’t a great combination. God, if love wasn’t so stubborn, you would be a distant memory by now.
You must have told me hundreds of lies over the years. At first, I gulped them up without hesitation before noticing how some little things didn’t add up, and I became curious. Even when confronted, you would smile before adding another lie to exonerate yourself. There was never a hint of embarrassment at being caught out. You just kept up your act because lying had become second nature. The truth had long since been elbowed out of the way.
I wonder when you first discovered the power of a lie. Perhaps, as a little boy, you watched a family member lie and get away with it. Even if this was only a small lie, you must have learned that lying held benefits over telling the truth. Whatever its origin, you found that lying either prevents you from getting into a situation you don’t want to be in or leads you to where you want to be. And in realising this, you became a master of its art.
I shouldn’t think you wake up every morning and prepare a list of lies for the day or every night you spend time relishing the number of people you fooled that day. To become a professional liar, a person has to dispense with conscience because otherwise, it gets messy – emotionally and practically. In your case, lying has become so embedded in your psyche you have forgotten the difference between it and the truth.
I had to mop up the hurt like a sponge absorbs water. I had to smile as if nothing was wrong when my heart weighed a ton. I had to disguise my feelings, although inside, loneliness swirled around. But I’m beginning to feel stronger now and know my lonely nights are edging to an end. I wonder how you’re going to cope when yours come. I won’t be thinking about you because, at that stage, your grip on me will no longer have strength.
I received your wedding photo today and wondered why you sent it. I wasn’t ripped apart by sadness or jealousy when I looked at it. I might have been a year or so ago, but now I’m used to the subterfuge that is your life. You weren’t smiling in the photo, I noticed. An arranged marriage with a stranger just to further your means. Her fate is sealed now, but firstly her task will be to birth you a child – preferably a boy.
I noticed the way you were holding your bride’s hand. But what exactly will she receive from your hand in marriage – lies, dishonesty and manipulation instead of joy derived from integrity and love? She will be under your command and have to obey you. This stranger will be closest to you physically but will never satisfy you emotionally. You will have to search elsewhere for that nourishment. If my name is on your list, please remove it.
You could have 12 wives, 12 houses, 12 businesses and be worth millions, but it wouldn’t make any difference. You could double or quadruple all of those things to no avail. God could come down from the sky and give you the keys to his kingdom, and you still wouldn’t be happy. Gratitude is not in your DNA. You are not destined to experience deep peace or joy. That might explain your dark and miserable expression when I saw you last.
The snow is melting. It’s hard to imagine it ever departing when it first arrives, especially when followed by a hard frost that sticks the snow like glue to the ground. But yet, it eventually fades away. When a person is hurt, they, too, sometimes think they will never get over the pain, but time eases the burden. I want you to melt away, too, like snow. I’m not out for revenge of any kind. I just want to live a happy life and totally forget about you.
There were times when my heart was so full of you that I could barely call it my own. Not any longer. I can go for weeks without thinking about you, and even then, such thoughts are weaker and quickly disappear. That is a huge achievement, given that your claws were sunk deep into my psyche – part of your odious plan to get me to fall in love with you so I would succumb to your every beck and call. But I’ve reclaimed my power. Hooray. You are not so clever now!
Declan Henry was born in County Sligo in Ireland and now lives in Kent. He is the author of eight books. His website can be viewed at: www.declanhenry.co.uk
