Reliant…that was the word he used. We should not become reliant. Him or me? Us? We shouldn’t become reliant…it’s not good for either of us.
I had no words as he spoke so matter of factly. I was shocked and yet I shouldn’t have been. That tiny flame had burned for years inside me..the flame of hope. I carried a torch for him …then… boom…it was gone. He stamped upon the flame I cherished…ground the glowing embers into the dirt…made sure the fire was out. That hope was gone…extinguished.
And in it’s once warm place…a black hole. Cold….grey…..black…white edged and brittle. Falling apart. No word’s….no encouragement to fan the flame once more. Either way I still love him. I had become reliant on the flame. I guess it’s over..how did I ever believe a fairytale might come true for me? None have ever… or ever will. My life as I’ve known it for 30 years is over. No flame anymore. I’ll walk ahead into the future but I’ll no longer have dreams for myself. My dreams are dead and gone. I will dream only for my children and I’ll die knowing my dreams died first…before I was ready to let go. I never really held them in my hand. They were slippery threads that shimmered with hope but were too elusive to be caught. Not by me anyway. That little hopeful girl has gone forever and in my heart I’m an old woman who wants to die because a life without dreams is not a life worth living.