We’ve all been associated with the phenomena of survivor’s guilt. It’s when you feel guilty and disoriented for being alive, when someone you love has died, in front of you, faced with the same circumstances as you. But you lived through it, and you had to see them, break, minute by minute. And eventually fade away into nothingness.
This guilt is not just literal; you don’t have to understand or relate to death as a body being frail and lost in front of you. It is the loss of life, of hopelessness surviving and of every ounce of happiness evading the personal space that surrounds a soul. It isn’t exclusive, it is not the first time it happened to someone in the world, but it is the first time it happened to you.
You, a being of your own choices, of circumstances and decisions that surround you, you alone faced this. You had the survivor’s instinct, the need to hold on to something before you let yourself go. So you held on to past promises, you held on to faith in shattered realities, you thought about mending the broken, you thought you would not let go, because if you did, if you let go once, you’d end up in the deep dark pit of nothingness. So your survivor’s instinct kicked in, and if nothing, you held on to yourself.
I told him once when he asked me, what was I so afraid of, when all he did was love me. And love is a beautiful thing; it can heal, change your world, your perspective and in the end change your life. So what was I afraid of?
I told him I was afraid that love would be too great.
He said too great? Well, it’s supposed to be. What’s the point of love if it isn’t great enough?
I hesitated before letting the bricks of my wall go, so carefully cemented in, I said, If you leave me, if you decide not to love me eventually, if you end up even hurting me a little, I’m afraid I will not be able to survive it because you’re the only happiness I’ve known and you’re the reality I hold on to when all of me is willing to let go. I survive because of you, and you’re not even mine.
They say, it’s better to have loved and lost. They don’t tell you the secret behind that line, the words everyone fears they will have to understand one day. It is so much better to not have loved a great deal, and then lost altogether, when you could have loved a little, or not loved at all, as then there would be no pain in the loss, only an empty feeling, you would be unable to differentiate with a lovelier one, because it would be so ordinary, because you would have never known any better and that would be okay.