• © Elizabeth Libra

    Love Note


    It was like being wrenched off balance. I had everything stable, you know, though I walked a thin line every second of my life. It wasn’t safe, and it wasn’t easy, but I managed. I was satisfied. Or I thought I was.

    Then I met you, and I slipped.

    Perhaps I could have caught myself, managed to keep from falling, but you grabbed hold of me, and you wrenched me off my axis. Am I supposed to thank you for that? Am I supposed to be grateful?

    Except I am and I don’t know why.

    You came to me with your angry eyes and your bitter words and your knife edge smile, and you became…everything. It was hard to remember eyes that didn’t burn or a smile that didn’t cut. And I found myself craving all the things you did to me.

    You used me.

    God, I know this. I was the point you wanted to make. Your willing martyr. Everything fell to pieces, and I didn’t care because that was your plan. You wanted to prove something to the rest of them, and you did.

    I think you proved it to yourself, too.

    I sometimes find myself wishing I actually meant something to you, but I’ve realized I don’t. I never did, really. You still haven’t come ever since they put me in here. I wonder if it’s guilt that keeps you away or just disinterest, though something inside me knows it is the latter. I was just an instrument you’ve discarded now that I’ve served my purpose.

    And, God, God, I want to hate you for that.

    I whisper it to myself sometimes when the hospital is mostly silent and the lights have been turned down, over and over again—I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you--but I still haven’t convinced myself.

    I don’t think I ever will.