Normally, you’re my rock. I may be a down-to-earth person by nature, but that doesn’t mean I can make it alone. You are always there to keep me grounded when I lose my mind a little bit. You know me. You know how to talk me back down when I get too worked up, and you know how to talk me out of bed when I’m feeling too down to face the day. That’s what a rock is to me. That’s what you do for me, and I don’t thank you enough for any of it.
Tonight, though, you’ve given up that role. Now it’s like you’re a balloon that I’m barely able to hang on to. It’s like we’re in a storm and everything’s slippery, and you know my hands aren’t always on my side anyway. I’m terrified of losing you. It’s absolute hell to hear the voices in the back of head saying, “Let him go.” They try to tell me that you’ll come back if this is really meant to be.
What do they know though? They never had to put their hope in a helium tank. They were letting go of rocks and sheet metal and tires. They were letting go of things that would sink and bounce and stay.
Lying alone all these miles away from you, wondering if you’re slipping away….that is not what will kill me. Having my heart pound out of my chest as I pray like mad that I won’t lose you….that’s not what will kill me. Staring at my phone, just knowing you aren’t going to answer tonight…..that’s not what will kill me. But calling the only other person I trust to be this vulnerable to, and hearing him say that you might not come back….that is what will kill me.
So I’m still holding on. Right or wrong, I can’t let you leave this way. I’ll do what I can to coax you back into my arms. It’s gonna be hard when you’re not here to keep my crazy in check, but I’ll find a way. You’re worth all of it. I can’t lose you. I can’t let go if it means that I’ll lose you.