I still love you

His eyes were empty. Cold. Alien.

I still love you.  

The words were strung together loosely, casually. It reminded me of a habit, the thing you do over and over and over, eventually resulting in the action losing all or any meaning. However the comfort kept us attached, even if the reason for the action eluded us. That was what our love was. A habit, a source of comfort. That was what time and effort and commitment did to our love; it reduced it to nothing more than a guilty afterthought.    

I just don’t want you anymore.

For some reason rejection seems to always be the worst fear, the scariest demon. For some reason rejection… especially unreasonable rejection seems to leave scars that never heal. And honestly, which kind of rejection is reasonable? We are raised thinking we are special and beautiful and talented. Why would anyone who tells us we are not quite what we were taught to believe be considered reasonable?

His eyes flickered towards me – cold, dark. I could see the anticipation of a reaction.

I remember the first time I saw those eyes; warm and fuzzy and bright. I remember looking into his eyes and believing he could never lie to me because I would always be able to look at him, meet his gaze, and read the truth; I would always be able to see his thoughts as clear as I could see his expressions on his face.

Those beautiful clear blue eyes had managed to wash my fears away like frothing waves of salty ocean water, licking over the sand before darting back from where it came, carrying my heavy thoughts and daunting fears with it. Those eyes would always keep me safe, they would always show me what honesty and happiness was meant to be.

But now, looking up at him, I could only see the eyes of a stranger. The eyes of a man I could not bear to look at, could not imagine holding, or loving. Those eyes terrified me. I wondered who had scooped my eyes, the eyes I had fallen in love with, out of his skull like wobbly jelly on a silver spoon, and replaced them with the dark beady eyeballs of this stranger. I believed he had been my prince charming. Now I knew he had not saved me from anything.

No one ever tells you that the fairy tales lie. No one ever mentions the cheating spouse, the pregnant teen, the heartbroken widow. Convenience leaves out the ugly truth and raises us on luxurious day dreams with shining coats of armour and golden crowns and gleaming happily ever afters.

There is no happy ending. I knew this, I had always known this. But he made me forget. And now, he punished me for it.

I still love you.

I tried not to shake. His hand came out to grab me. I pulled away.

Nothing’s changed.

No, I replied, meeting those unfamiliar eyes for one last time.

Everything has changed.