I can't seem to get this right. No matter how hard I try, I fall for it every time and it gets harder and harder to pick myself up. I say I won't let myself hurt like that again, I say that my heart is fine, but I lose a piece every time this happens. And maybe the truth is, I set myself up to fall like this. I mean, everyone falls at one point or another; maybe I just make sure it is earlier on so there is less pain and I am in control of the decision to let go. Or maybe, I am afraid of what will happen the first time I make it without falling. I just don't know if I can fly anymore.
The world it spins with not a thought about you,
and life breathes in, breathes out and lets you go.
Time moves on as though it never knew you,
and you are gone.
Slowly, methodically, and with intent you began to write me out of your script. It started with small lines, short scenes where I was not allowed to make an appearance. My character was replaced with no-names or whomever was handiest. Holding back tears, I accepted my fate, ever hoping that if I just stayed near to the cameras, you would somehow let me back into the final scene. But it never happens the way that we want it to.
At the premier, I saw how pleased you were, standing, watching the credits roll. I sat on the last row, close to the door, in the dark. I never saw my name, but what hurt more, you never realized that it was not there. I left before you could see my shoulders shaking with sobs that would not be swallowed. And you never called to see where I was.
Still, you should know, I am your biggest fan. I hope you get an Oscar.
