No Safety Net

Copyright Julia Bydulia.

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Without meaning to, or trying to, or wanting to you snatched me up and held me still when the rest of the world was speeding forward without me.

Even you were moving, getting smaller and smaller until you were a dot on the horizon that I could barely see. Whether I was being blinded or just blindsided was hard to tell at the time.

In the morning, I would always try to keep you away from my mind, from my thoughts. When you sneaked in, you would poison me with the promises I remember you making (and forgetting).

In the afternoon, my bed was rock hard without you there to keep me safe in your arms.

Safe.

The word has warped and twisted into something-some concept-that I scarcely understand now. There is no safety in the insecurity I feel when I walk into a room, alone. That alone-ness is the parting gift you gave to me. It makes my skin crawl.

It was a Saturday. I know it was a year ago, but I remember it. It was a Saturday. That summer was sticky in more ways than one.

You made it seem like a day together. "I'll come over," you told me on the phone that Thursday. "We'll talk, ok? Just me and you."

The bed was soft. I sank into it with you, your arm around my shoulder and your fingers playing with my hair. You whispered the words, every letter like a knife, cutting me, tearing me apart. "I don't love you anymore."

And just like that, it all shattered. I came unglued; I fell apart.

Those little piles of hair surprised me. Who knew I could pull so hard? Pacing and talking in circles, I begged you to take it back. We could forget it and move on. Go get some ice cream, I said. I'll never stop loving you, I said.

You shook your head and slid on your jacket, but, I wasn't having any of that. I grabbed your arm and tried to keep you there with me.

You walked away, though. I wasn't holding on tight enough.

Now, I am alone. The sun burns. Everything burns. Without meaning to, or wanting to, or trying to, you pulled me close to you and held me there in your arms, and in your eyes. Everything but your thoughts.

Now, I'm all alone. No safety net and no more love. Just old CDs to listen to when I need to cry and empty rooms to remind me that you're not here.