I want to take the blame. To say I went wrong and failed you. But I can’t. I look at you and smile instead. I can’t not smile. Because as hard, as trying as the times have been, they’ve been nothing but good.
We’re drifting apart after all these years. Not out of any conscious choice. We’re simply, slowly returning to the void that surrounds us. For a brief, wondrous moment we fought enough to hold some form that we could interact. Now, our energy is sapped and we must return to our composite parts.
But I’ll take something with me of you. And you of I. For in our efforts to hold ourselves together and to hold on to one another something happened. We became us. And we grew.
The lines around our eyes are not from stress or worry or age. They are totems to our stories and the time we had together. Every one earned and loved.
I have always hated saying goodbye. And I don’t want to say it now. I don’t want to do this without you. I can’t. You gave me shape. I know I’m already drifting and you’re still sitting in front of me. Which makes me smile, even now.
Today’s art is courtesy of Anna Averina from Russia.