“ You loved her. Didn’t you? You never stopped…” my therapist asked. 

“ Yeah I did. I really did ”.

“ Did she love you? ”. 

Silence filled the room, it was suffocating. That question had played on my mind for years, it was the question I locked away hoping that one day when I was stronger I could answer it truthfully, and today was not that day.

“ I don’t think so, she just loved the idea of me, it always felt like she wanted a better version. Or maybe she did, I just couldn’t see it. But now I’ll never know. “

 “ Will that not knowing torment you? ”

Yes. 

You didn’t tell him that you had already lost sleep, that that feeling she left made you sick to your stomach. You couldn’t tell him that you’d never felt a heartbreak quite like this, that you felt this enormous sense of guilt for what you did. That you truly believed that your heart would never be able to pull itself back together. How could you say that this loss haunted your soul, how could you say that her demons became mine.

I took a deep breath and answered.

“ No. That not knowing might just save me some torment ”.

– it was one of the many lies I had to tell myself.