Fuck that ‘losing her slowly’ bullshit. You will not lose her slowly; it will be an avalanche. It will cascade around you before you ever even think about seeing it coming; the rocks above your heads will come crashing down in the darkness, cracking your skull as you walk hand in hand, assuming you’ll reach safety (light) soon. You won’t reach it. You won’t reach the light.
You won’t reach the light, not because you didn’t remember her birthday or the colour of her natural hair (these are merely annoyances, none of it really matters because none of it contributes to the essence of either of you), not because you bring her pink ladies at the bar even though she never remembers telling you that was her drink of choice and to be honest doesn’t love gin…
You won’t reach the light because of that night you got in your car and drove away, even though she was begging you to stay. You won’t reach the light because when she said, “I might be able to move away for school” you said, “I’ll Skype you” and “we’ll work something out” instead of saying, “I will follow you anywhere”. Because ultimately, going somewhere for someone is never going to have the same implication as standing still. Because she understands this, and it doesn’t even cross your mind.
How isn’t this losing her slowly? Because unlike these narratives in which one lover feels constantly neglected, she won’t realise it until it’s too late. There will be nothing nagging at her at night, she’ll make you your coffee in the morning without ever resenting that even though she goes to sleep later, you always stay in bed the longest. She won’t realise, she won’t write it in her diary or text it to her friends; it’s not going to be something that builds up, like a wall around her, between the two of you… Those walls, you see, can be stopped mid-construction and, brick by brick taken apart.
This wall will start and end in the same moment, and once she’s flung it around herself, precarious though it may look, you’re not going to be able to penetrate it at all. It may be five months or five years from now, hell, it may happen the day before she dies at eighty-four, but whenever it happens the result will be the same. She won’t have died in your arms like you believed all along that she would. Standing still for someone can only last so long. Soon, it won’t be the act of losing her that is the avalanche, but her in herself. You won’t lose her slowly, you’ll gain her steadily and then keep her stagnant until one day, the mould of her discontent will finally break through the thin ice she was standing on, and she’ll fall into the water, far, far deeper than you could ever swim to reach her.
Maybe in hindsight you lost her slowly – but at the time, it will hit you both like a tonne of bricks.
Losing her (slowly?)
- Daisy Lola