I can’t change the way I feel, can’t stop loving, caring, wanting.
We all build around us walls of hope, visions of the future, and here, now, this minute, all mine are crashing down. Everything I wanted to achieve was to have been achieved with him by my side, and now his absence leaves nothing. I’ve lost the one thing I held higher than anyone in the world. This must be God’s greatest sorrow, that the love for one person has been so savagely undermined, sidelined, disposed of. Sam was the centre of my world, is the centre of my world, and now he has decided to move on. How do you live without your centre?
Since December, Sam and I have spent almost all of our time with each other, only two nights of the week where we were apart, only three mornings we didn’t wake together in each other's arms. Inseparable, a love for each other's constant company. How do you go back to being alone after that? How do you sleep knowing you’ll never lay next to him again? How do you wake knowing he’ll never be in your arms? Even worse to think of him waking in the arms of another, that burns more than any fire.
So it ends like this. Alone. Alone for what reason? The lure of friends who once abandoned him and now returned. The lure of friends offering free drugs and bad words against someone they know nothing about. People judging me on a glimpse as opposed to seeing or thinking about how good Sam and I work together. Jealous that we had something they could never achieve. A battle for influence, get rid of the one who has the hold over him and he’ll be yours forever. Make him believe I’m not right for him, judge what we have from one bad night and ignore all the hours of happiness we shared over the time we were together. I know how I will be remembered, every bit of caring devotion I laid at his altar will be pushed aside in favour of the one night my fists slammed drunkenly across his face. Much easier to paint a picture of me as being a violent beater than a caring, loving devotee who was thrown away for something as trivial as a line of cocaine.
Once again we return to God’s sorrow, the throw away notion of the love for another. The inability to place the one you love above friends. Love should be, as it always is with me, more valuable than friends. To love one person so completely, with so much devotion, so much passion, far surpasses anything mere friendship can offer, even if those friends have an infinite supply of narcotics and a penchant for sleeping with each other. In this throw away society we have thrown away the one thing that gives us hope, thrown away our salvation, thrown away love. Thrown away the one thing that can allow for true happiness, thrown away that bond to the separated part of our souls.
What a lonely life it is to know you have both loved and lost your soul partner, the one you were destined to meet, the one who you will love over all others to the day you die.
I’ve arrived at Waterloo, my eyes scanning the blue screens looking for a train to Guildford. I feel so empty inside, so used and discarded. The comedown, heavy brained and cold inside, my body craving the next hit, the next mind altering toxin. I know in my head now, as my eyes continue to search, that this body will be abused, will have chemicals pushed into it to remove my mind from the pain I know I cannot heal, a pain that will never fade. I know everything will be a dull comparison. I’ve tasted the most sweetest drug known to man, far sweeter than heroin. Love. The love for one person, its addiction and come down never-ending. There’s no powder, no needles, no pill to take. The hit lays within the person, their soul, their essence. Here, right now, this minute, everything is confirmed. I can love no other, will be incapable of loving anyone as much as Sam, my addiction to him life long.
Some people will test you, walking great distances so far ahead just to see how long you’ll follow. But the choice to follow is always yours, if you let them go past the point of no return then they need to know that from there they are going it alone.
I made you a promise to always be there for you, it’s a promise which shall remain unbroken. I shall be right by your side no matter what, in spirit if not in person. You will never be alone, there is always one person thinking about you above all others. One person who truly loves you no matter how much hurt and anger has been felt. Even if you don’t want me to follow, I’m going to be there, always hiding in the shadows, making sure that everything is okay, making sure you never give up on your dreams.
I protected, listened, stood by. Devoted all my time to you. Took all the shit and never left your side, never wanted to leave it. Who else has ever given you that? Who else would still build worlds for you after all this shit? But then again, what shit? All this bad will be forgotten, forgiven without a word. Who else would do that for you?
My eyes look outside the train’s windows, watching the landscape glide by, bustling buildings soon replaced by country land, small buildings peppered in a sea of green. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to let someone go, to let them follow the route they feel will give them most happiness even if it doesn’t include you. Sometimes that is the greatest sign of your love, to be so selfless as to always and ever put their happiness before your own.
I’ve made a bet to myself that within the month Sam will have moved on, will have a new boyfriend, he’ll be the centre of someone else’s world. I know that will hurt, burn, kill me like a slow painful disease, but I must let it happen, must let him go and just watch from the sidelines. Always watching, always caring.
Never regret, never forget. I will never stop thinking. Never will you leave my mind. I will always care above the rest, an unrestrained care without self-interest. A heart made of silver. You shall always be the special one, a tattoo on my heart. Mine.
There’s a hole in my soul. I don’t feel complete and I know that complete is something I’ll never feel again. Destined to live without a centre. Once your soul mourns, it will never stop.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born in Essex in 1983.
Always one to think outside of the box and speak his mind honestly, Dom Lyne's work takes a no-holds-barred approach. A visual, aural, mental kick in the teeth, a punch in society's guts. Misanthropic, blunt, and opinionated; a style in keeping with Dom's ethos that if you don’t think for yourself, you are not thinking at all, only merely following like livestock. One person might not be able to change the world, but he'll certainly try and leave a scar upon it. Punk ethics for a digital and wasted generation.
Dom has been diagnosed with Schizotypal Disorder, Dissociative Disorder, and Borderline Personality Disorder. He has also suffered from psychosis since the age of four. All of these mental health issues bleed into his work through his creation of claustrophobic landscapes and offer the reader an insight into his world, the world he has created and mutated in his physical reality.
Dom Lyne currently lives in the heart of London's Camden Town.
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