What We Talk About When We Talk About Love: Flashback of a Fool

It was funny when me and the fellas joked about it sitting around the bar; even funnier when you threatened during an argument. However, it wasn’t funny when I came home and found a hole in the closet where your clothes used to be, and every picture of you replaced with the random White girl that came with the frame. I knew that last fight was bad, but I didn’t know it was that bad, bad enough for you to leave.
No notice, no letter, you just packed your shit and left!
For the next three hours I called, texted, e-mailed, and drove around looking for you, I even stopped by your mama’s house and you were nowhere to be found. I searched everywhere I could think of until I could think no more and found myself sitting on the couch where we used to laugh, talk about our days and kiss each other until the night became morning.  All of that happiness might as well have been in B.C., because it was so far from that moment when I had my head in my hands, trying to figure out where it all went wrong.
I took for granted that you’re always be right there where I saw you last; I didn’t realize you were crying in that chair where you sat and read night after night, failed to recognize that I hadn’t seen a smile a weeks. Somehow I was oblivious to the unhappiness, believing that you would stay with me because of all the good times we had with one another…but at that point, that was all we HAD with one another.
Now you were gone and all I had were flashbacks, memories of smiles and laughter, interrupted by infidelity and fights, tears and screaming, punctuated by me lying in a half-empty bed. The old saying was true; I had made my bed, so I had to now lay in it…alone. Night after night, I stared at the ceiling, waiting for you to call, hoping you’d return. More nights than not I fell asleep clutching your pillow like it was you, awakening at sounds in the night, hoping it was you coming back saying you were still in love with me. I even dreamt that you returned to me one night, but…
Woke up in the morning, you were not there!
Against my best judgment I tried to pick up the pieces of my life and move on, but I was a fraction of the man I used to be. The truth is, the best parts of me were packed in your bags or left curbside to be picked up Thursday morning and what was left, looked nothing like me. A life without you wasn’t life at all, but I had to move on the best way I knew how, while you went in search of your happy. I tossed and turned, threw back shots leaving nothing to waste, lived in a fog, waiting for you to at least call and say you were ok.
People are starting to ask me why, why I drink so much alcohol? People are starting to ask me why, why I never laugh or smile at all?
The nights became days and they turned to weeks before months, but you finally reached out to me, just when I was about to hit my bottom. Your best friend called and said you were done crying; she said you were done crying over me and that you couldn’t do it anymore, that it was really over. It was at that moment that I realized that I pushed the best thing that ever happened in my life away, I was fool, I felt like everyone was laughing at me, like they were all in on the big joke. I was that joke, that fool, that idiot, all of those other things people would say when I wasn’t around, but it didn’t matter. I had all of your love in the palm of my hand and I let it slip through the cracks of my fingers…
All of the maybes, if I would’ve done this or had I come home earlier, none of it was worth anything now. Hindsight is 20/20, but I was staring my reality straight in the face, you were gone, I was alone and it was all my fault. The memories started to fade like my favorite pair of jeans; I was just piecing together moments…flashbacks of a fool.

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