What you've taken from me

Life is all a matter of perspective.




I used to have so much, how did you manage to take it all away from me?

The days and nights used to pass without measure. Worry fed my tired soul and deception kept me attentive when sleep was a long lost memory. The difference between reality and daydream blurred to the extent that I only felt alive for brief fleeting moments that came in violent shocks to my nervous system like the last kicks and gasps of a drowning man. When I went a night without a phone call it meant that whoever she'd gotten drunk and ended up in bed with didn't bother her enough to pick up the phone and ask me to come pick her up until morning. My mind worked in a long painful cycle: repair, repress, repose. And on and on it went.

You took away the lies.
You took away the torment.
You took away the fights.
You took away the darkness in my soul.

Tell me what it's like, to take away someones life? And in return give them something so unfamiliar: Truth, honesty and love. What are these things? What do I do with them? So easy to give and receive that I felt like something had to be wrong. You took away selfishness and gave me favors with no debt. You took the pain and replaced it with care. You trashed the brokenness and instituted stability; traded difficult for easy.

Just make one promise. Don't give any of it back. Take these things from me and throw them in the garbage. You know exactly what's best for me now.