Burning Bridges

I've never liked the night. You know that better than most. For one thing it's dark and the dark frightens me. I can't see anything and therefore anything is out there. That uncertainty scares me. But mostly I don't like night because it's when my mind naturally reflects not only on the day but on my whole life. I don't know if this causes my depression to worsen or if it just happens on its own and reflection makes it worse. Either way, I don't like it.

I wish you could see my room. Like always, nearly every wall space is occupied with something, most of which are pictures. I finally took your picture down. It didn't seem right to keep a picture of a married man on my wall, especially when he's my ex. But I still have pictures up of other friends and lovers who have left me. Some betrayed me, some just moved on, and some I still stay in contact with though it's erratic at best. I wonder if I'll ever see some of them again. I wonder if I'll ever see you again.

You know me, love. You know me better than pretty much everyone. Please, tell me why am I so good at burning bridges when it causes me so much pain? Once someone leaves me, even if it's on good terms, I do very little to sustain that relationship. And at night when I think of those burned bridges, the smell of smoke, the ash in my hair, the heat on my face, knowing it was me who did it, it nearly destroys me. I can't figure out why. It's counterintuitive to continue doing something that I know hurts me. Why do I keep the past behind me? Why do I do everything I can to ensure the past stays behind me? Why do I keep burning bridges when I know those charred remains will one day haunt me? Please, tell me, love. I can't figure it out. I need you to tell me why. Make sense of my life just one more time. Please.

I hope you're doing okay. And I sincerely hope that no matter what you're doing, you're finding happiness. I can promise you three times I will never burn our bridge. You don't do that to those you love.

Love you.
Mean it.