The Break Up: Prequel (Part 3)

“It’ll be fine, babe.” She said comfortingly. “I know.” I lied. Those were her last words as she left me. I was still trying to complete the same novel I thought I’d be done with months ago. I was stuck and she was moving on. By moving on I mean her career was booming. Since she had made the dress for the awards show about 3 months ago her name was out there. She was getting calls from just about any celebrity you could name from D list all the way up to A list for any and every event. She even had to hire a staff and get a larger office all within a month. I was happy for her but I was suffering. To see so much success right in my home yet none of it came from me was slowly but surely killing my will to continue writing. I did my best to smile for her and tell her how proud I was but you’ll never feel this incomplete until you see someone you love be made whole while your destiny is still loading. Whether I was an optimist or realist at this moment I felt like the glass that was half empty. I thought it would’ve happened by now. I figured we would come up together. Now she was flying at the top and I was swimming at the bottom. Unfortunately I wasn’t a talking lobster so I didn’t like being under the sea. They say at your lowest point is when you’re forced to rise yet I was trying to figure out how much lower I could go. My life had become the ultimate game of limbo. Honestly, I loved her but resented her success. Though she had remained the same woman I loved, I changed. Her accomplishments changed me. This was the worst thing that could’ve happened. I couldn’t focus for thinking so much about what she had already done. She was on all the blogs and gossip sites. She was the young seamstress who made her way out of hardships and pain all to be a great designer and upcoming stylist. I was never mentioned. Not that I wanted to be. I mean…did I? I wanted to be a great author. I wanted to be mentioned with the legends. I was in the middle of creating the next big thing. Now all I cared about was being mentioned as her significant other. I wanted to be acknowledged. I wanted credit for being by her side. The crazy thing was that she never seemed to care. I never mentioned it to her but she never brought it up either therefore I figured she just didn’t care. “I’m home, sweetheart!” She said happily. Happy to see me I hope. Had I done this again? Had I spent my entire day thinking about her? Her success? My lack thereof? How could I let her popularity kill my dreams? None of this made sense to me, it made me irate in fact. “Hey.” I said. “Is everything ok?” She asked concerned. “Yeah, just tired.” I responded shortly. “Would you like to take a nap?” “I said tired not sleepy!” I snapped. She looked quizzical. “Did I do something to you?” “You did everything!” I was letting loose. “I can’t focus. I have no drive. You are my everything and I’m nothing to you! You’ve fell for your new love. Your job has replaced me! I’m always home trying to write but you’re never her! You’re never around to comfort me! Never here to help my creative process and that’s all I ever did for you!” I was allowing my anger to control my tongue. Maybe I’d regret it later but it felt so good right now. I looked and she had tears streaming down. “How could you say those things to me?” She asked hurt. “It’s all true! The blogs never mention me so neither do you! Your interviews and articles you never once mention me as your inspiration! It’s always your life and things that you’ve been thro-” “You’re apart of my life! Our relationship is all apart of my life!” She screamed. “But you are my life! You are everything to me! There’s nothing on this earth I want more than you!” I retorted. “My success isn’t all credited to you! I love you! I love you so much but it’s not all because of you!” She snapped back. Those words were swords to my speech. I couldn’t speak. It was as if my soul bleed with tears of agony. My entire novel was inspired by her and our relationship. It had started as a short story a year ago and was transformed into what it had become now and it was all because of our experiences together. To hear her say that I wasn’t her total inspiration was to hear Edward Scissorhands scratch a chalkboard. I couldn’t believe it. It was as untrue to me as the notion of God not being real was to a Christian. “So you don’t want them to speak about us because your work wasn’t influenced by us?! Is that it? We don’t matter to the conversation because it was never us, it was just you. I never did anything for you!” I yelled in heartache. “That’s not all true! You weren’t even liste-” “I was listening!” I cut her off. “You don’t want them to know about us! You never have! I know exactly why too!” I shouted. “Do not go there!” She snapped back. “No, it’s true. You don’t want them to know the truth. You don’t want to be just another gay designer thrown out into the world with another sob story of how your parents didn’t accept you! You don’t want your past to come out and that’s impossible if you tell them about us! Maybe you’ll keep me around as long as I keep my mouth shut. Maybe now you’re ready to leave and find a man. That way no one suspects anything! You can live your facade with some man you’ll never truly love all for the sake of continuing your career because you’re too afraid of what might happen if you come out!” I cried. “I can’t. I just can’t.” She said. “You can’t what?” I asked confused. “Be here.” She said as she grabbed her purse and left…Immediately my eyes were open. Had all of that been a dream like one of those tv show episodes? Today was Halloween, maybe I’d had my worst nightmare…

-Too Distinct the Poet

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