just keep on saving our goodbyes (part VI)

"Be less curious about people and more curious about ideas."
~~Marie Curie

(Continued from part V.)

Found another one.

Jul 3, 2012, 9:50 PM

[given name],

The girl is currently in the land of constant panic attacks due to all the explosions. The air outside smells like moss and cordite. And most of me right now wants to beat the computer screen and scream aloud, but...that would do no good, so...back to waiting, to reconstructing, to eventually becoming not a wreck without you, and without knowing what's happened to you.

If it helps, at this point I'm getting thoroughly sick of being a weepy, emotional mess. I have walked so many times to the very edge of writing a letter with that fateful word, but I keep stopping. Not necessarily because of you, but because of me.

I didn't agree to be Yours just for fun. I certainly didn't do it because of convenience. And holding to that line has cost me another relationship, has given me a bit of conflict with [another love], and not a small amount of emotional strife along the way. If it were easy to be Yours--to be anyone's--then it wouldn't have the power to sweep me under the way it does.

But, by that same extension, if I hear nothing, I have nothing to go on. Just as I can't be owned by a ghost, I can't break up with a ghost, either. Until you're there, I can't confirm or deny you, on any level.

But as I've said before, I can't stay here. I think too much, I feel too much, every time I seriously think of the months of absence, and the possible whys, I just break down. This is not good for me.

I've been using the nightly poetry jaunts as a therapeutic device, but at this point, they're just trapping me into the same morass of worry, fear, anxiety and pain. I need to find a way to get out of this place.

I'm not breaking up with you. I still love you. I am angry and I am hurt and I am desperately afraid, but I'm still here.

However.

I'm not writing a letter tomorrow.

This is not going to be a forever thing, but right now, I'm facing too much. Writing you is another access point into all that pain and fear, and I need to--not want to, at this point, need to--step away.

I won't be far. You can always reach me by email, by a comment on my Twitter, my Tumblr, or you can call, since we don't have international calling. I'm appending my info on the end of this letter, in case you don't have it at present.

I miss you, I am less without you, but I have to start walking forward or I'm not going to live through this confusion. Flat out.

Em

Trimmed off all the personal contact details I appended after, but it was everything I had at the time--every working email, every social media point, physical address, phone number. Everything I could think of, much of which he'd been given before.

Nothing.

(Quite possibly a couple more to come.)