The Worst Thing
In all the scariness of events going on right now, the absolute worst thing that can happen...
And it does happen.
And you don't know why it does sometimes.
You question yourself.
Oh God, what did I do?
What did I say?
Did something change?
You immediately wonder.
Did I say something dumb? Hurtful?
Inconsiderate? Did I have an empathy slip?
So used to apologizing, you are ready to go there.
I'm sorry. For whatever I did. Of course, you know I would never hurt you. I couldn't live with myself. I wouldn't sleep. I'd have a massive headache. I wouldn't eat. I wouldn't stop thinking about you. I would do anything, to make it better. Whatever is wrong. However I can help.
You have now conjured up 100 ways in which you have been a let-down, a disappointment. Or maybe you lost whatever vibe that was. Maybe you have crossed into the throwaway category. Like the dolls dumped on the corner in the TOY STORY movie. You've not needed, not useful any more.
Having seen that picture, you hesitate. Throwing things away was hard already. But that t-shirt. Will it ever forgive you, as you toss its remains in your blue recycle bin??( You quickly pull it out again)
And when you go to bed at night, your flashlight of a mind returns to the worst thing, and refuses to let it go, casting its beam in every dark corner, every dusty cupboard in your thrift store brain.
Like a stab in the dark, the ominous question presents itself and repeats, like a mean jingle, a taunt:
WHY did he ghost me?
For there is nothing worse. Oh, much better to be told off. Rebuked to the face. Told some truth you didn't know was truth. But. To vanish? With no explanation?
Holding the bag. No, more like holding the baggage.
Having to let go of who you never thought could ever be disposable.
Yes, it did happen. Yes, it happened to you. You would like to fall on the floor, pummeling your fists into the vinyl. Please! please! Please! Don't ghost me! Anything but this. For you are tortured.
And there's a ghost of a chance he even knows he destroyed a part of you.
He gave you his demise. Though somewhere he is living on.
And crazily enough, you are the one who will have to resurrect, to act unscathed.
Oh yes, it happens all the time.
I am the kind of person who does see ghosts, and does believe in them.
And today, as I write, I am still not sure I won't be hurt when and if someone else slips off, with no return address, or response to a text message.
I will just have to channel these feelings into another one of THOSE songs.