(ME: Standing on the ledge, ready to
fall into something between a white flag and bloodshed. I'm ready to move
on, I'm ready to stop this WAR.
YOU: Aiming the gun at my heart, ready
to make one final move, the trigger pull that ends it all.)
We fight too much. This is a tragedy in
the making, let's get it over with, stab me in the back if you have
to, just make it quick.
I don't remember the day this WAR
began, but that's what this is: WAR.
This is a WAR between me and you, this
is a WAR between what we know is right, and what you long to do.
Throw me under the bus, I'm not going to lie anymore. I've held still
while you provoked me, I've lied about what I think; it doesn't
really matter anyway. You'll try to cut my hair, you'll try to paint
my skin in a thousand different shades of hate, but I won't ever hate
you; best friends one day, sworn enemies the next.
This is for all the times you asked me
if I needed help. I said “no” when what I meant was, “please
help me tell me what to do this adult thing is hard”.
Look, please, I never wanted to be a
WAR general, but here I am fighting for something I'm not quite sure
if I believe in.
At the end of the day, at the end of
the WAR, someone always has to give in. Give up the guns, give up the
running, the chasing, the pocket lint collected since the beginning.
I know this is hard. I know everything you've ever said to me won't
disappear anytime soon. All those words are going to collect dust as
they sit on the dresser. All those memories we made before this WAR
are going to pile up in a drawer that I'm going to lock and never
open again.
Hearts break during WAR. Hearts fall
apart all the time, but what people don't realize, friends can be the
ones to do the heartbreaking. Family can be the ones to do the
heartbreaking. I can be the one to do the heartbreaking, and maybe
the only WAR I'm in is a WAR with myself.
There's always going to be a small part
of me wondering what would happen if I don't give up, if I never wave
that white flag at the end of this WAR symbolizing everything I said
I'd always do/everything I said I'd never do.
Here's the thing: If I don't start this
truce, I'll only destroy myself in the end.
Stop throwing the stones, stop shooting
the bullets. I'm done here, there's nothing left for either of us, and
we both know this WAR can't end without someone stopping it. Too many
people have tried to stop it. We're the only ones who can pull the
trigger, we're the only ones who can destroy the stash of hidden
bullets.
I'm sure treaties have conditions, even
PEACE treaties. (This isn't meant to start another WAR, or to
continue the WAR we have.) I'm giving up the guns, the bullets, the
bow and arrow. I'm giving up the house I used to love. The city is
yours, the streets are yours, the grass and the sky and the stars are
yours. I don't want anything but to never see you again.
Is that
enough? Is that enough?
The bullets you've lodged into my ribcage aren't disappearing, and I fear they never will. This ends here with one foot dipped into your heart, the other into next week.
This WAR is over.
Please, just remember:
Sticks and stones may break my bones,
but at least those wounds heal.
Everything is changing. (Again.)
xoxo,
rachel.
