Winter Mourning

I hadn't realised you weren’t coming with me. When you leaned in to kiss me goodbye, I was confused. You were the same, but surprising, somehow. There was a shift only I could perceive. You weren't coming with me today and only I knew what it meant.
As your arms around me loosened, I could feel you slipping away, not just from that moment. I didn’t know how to make you stay like that, how to control you. So I just stood there. Passively, like I did for the two years we loved each other. Passively, the way you hated.

My hands were freezing over the box you gave me, as you walked away. I was holding on to it as if it was you in there. My eyes were full. My heart felt empty. I knew somehow that it would be the last time I saw you. And it was, for 3 turbulent years. 

None the wiser.

It's not who I am. It's just what I pretend to do. Sometimes. 

It's what I claim to enjoy. It's what you know I hate. 

It's my worst nightmare. Or maybe not. 

It's my entire adult life. It's my father's dream for me. 

It's the crutch I lean on when I feel I'm failing everywhere else. 

It's what I call myself. 

It's my ticket out of here. 

It's everything I want to be, but not at all what I am.