maybe I will someday let this go forever; hold me until i find the nerve

a piece based on Lizzy McAlpine's 'Staying'

If you’d like to listen to the song that inspired this, press play below once you’re done with this intro! I’ve (attempted to) time the lyrics with the average reading pace, so they should line up naturally as you go. If not, no stress—the piece reads just as well on its own. For those reading and listening together, I’ve bolded and italicized the synced lyrics to help you stay on track. Happy reading :)
xoxo, Jia | Joy in Abundance

---

The month before it all crashed, our relationship was the rockiest it had ever been.

It was heavy with this undiluted tension, like we both knew what had to happen but neither of us wanted to pull the trigger. The last night we spent together, I was throwing up from an anxiety attack following our date. By the time I was done, you were sound asleep. How can you look so peaceful when you know I’m gonna leave?

There’s something terrifying about ending the only thing that’s ever felt like home. Even when that home starts to hurt you.

It’s not that I didn’t love you. God, I did. That’s what made it so impossible. I loved you, but loving you started to mean losing myself. I could feel it in my body, in my mind, in the quiet ways my spirit was dimming. No matter how much I wanted love to be enough, it wasn’t. I wasn’t.

When I finally told you, you cried harder than I’ve ever heard anyone cry, and I just sat there, hollowed out, my heart breaking and breaking and still somehow staying intact. I wanted to hold you and run away at the same time. I wanted to take it all back, even though I knew I couldn’t.

I keep replaying the way the sadness involuntarily filled your eyes, and the way you tried to smile through the wreckage because you didn’t want to make it harder on me. I think that’s what haunts me most. How even in your grief, you were still trying to protect me. You tried so hard to hold it back, like if you were calm enough, you could convince me to stay. Or at least make it easier for me to go.

I think part of me hoped that the goodbye waiting in my throat would dissolve if we stayed quiet and still. But nothing changes just because you wish it would.

I hope at some point I stop carrying it—the guilt, the ache, the memory of your arms around me when I needed them most. Maybe I’ll finally understand that leaving was the right thing. Maybe I will someday let this go forever.

Hold me until I find the nerve.