When we kissed there were were fireworks and the world around us came to a halt. Sometimes we would smile mid-kiss because our hearts were full. We would laugh together over nothing, we would sit in silence, we would watch animated movies after a scary movie because he would get scared easily. We were happy and our happiness made us invincible. Nothing else seemed to matter because as long as we had each other we could overcome anything.
We were a team. A good one at that. That is… until we weren’t. Only I wasn’t told we weren’t a team anymore. And to be completely honest, I’m not even angry.
He suffered from depression. He began to feel dead inside; thinking it was a phase he didn’t think to mention it. Emotions bottled, resentment built, and I was on the outside. It was a secret I was not a part of until it was too late. Once it had become unmanageable, he exploded. He realized that he needed to fix some things within himself because as cliche as it sounds, “You can’t love someone else until you love yourself.” One look at the other and we knew this was something he had to do for himself, no one else.
It’s unfair that mental health took a toll on our relationship. It’s unfair that mental health took a toll on his entire life. It’s unfair that his culture frowns upon mental health and didn’t offer the support he deserved. It’s unfair that two people who loved and still love each other had to say good bye.
As frustrated and devastated as I am, I know it was the healthy choice for both of us. I want him to find his inner happiness and peace even if I am not there to see it be found.
I’m sad. So very sad. But I’m, also, determined that somewhere in this mess there is a silver lining. There just has to be.