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"It Used To..."
by TeeJayIt used to . . .
I'm Liz Parker and it used to be . . . different.
It used to be more than friendship what we had. Now it's just. . . I'm not sure exactly. Less than friendship.
It used to be a relationship based upon faith. Now there's nothing but doubt, uncertainty and mistrust.
It used to be a happy moment when we saw each other. Now we turn away when we set eyes on each other.
It used to make my skin tingle when I watched you smile. Now I have a sickening knot in my stomach when I watch you. You don't even smile at me anymore.
It used to electrify me when you touched me. Now I flinch when you do. You don't even want to touch me anymore.
It used to fill my heart with joy when you knocked on my window in the night to talk to me about what bothered you. Now you discuss your problems with someone else.
It used to make me smile just to exchange meaningless banter with you. Now you only have harsh words for me - if we talk at all.
It used to be me whom you came to first for support. Now I'm the last person to even know about what's going on.
It used to be you and me together, no matter what. Now it's me over here and you miles away.
I used to think nothing could come between us. I was wrong.
Instinctively, I'm trying to find something, someone to blame.
Is it me? Have I become a different person? Have I done something wrong? Have my actions and my words torn apart everything that once was?
Is it you? Have you changed? Did the feelings you had for me wither away?
Is it her? Does she offer something I don't? Is she more attractive than me? Is it because she will always be something I can never be?
Have I lost you for good?
It sure feels that way.
What you just said to me hurt me more than I would ever admit to you. It felt like you didn't have any feelings left for me. It made me go cold inside. It blew out the last candle for you inside my heart.
For now, it is still faintly glowing and smoldering, waiting to be rekindled and lit again. That very last spark will always remain, for as long as I live. It will only become harder to be inflamed. Like a wet wick that needs to be dried before it will catch fire. I'm waiting for you to come to me with the match that will light the candle.
But still . . . . There are voices in my head that seem to say "Who are you?" when I see you, study you, listen to you. Who is this person I once thought I knew? You are like a stranger to me sometimes. Like a whole other person from the one I have grown to love. And I do not like this person. The more I think about that, the sadder I become.
And again, I'm looking for someone or something to take the blame. It is hard not to blame her. I'd really like to think that she changed you, turned you around 180 degrees. Is she a bad influence on you? I don't know.
It's difficult not to hate her. Especially when I watch you talk to her, smile at her, whisper in her ear, hold her hand, kiss her. A sharp pain shoots through my stomach every time I see you with her. A pain that is more than jealousy. It is more than I can put into words.
I know that I am not entirely innocent. At least not in your eyes. It all comes down to the one night - the one night where you saw me in bed with Kyle. Things have never been the same after that. And I still don't know why I haven't told you. Why I haven't been able to explain to you the reasons for my actions. Maybe it's because I am afraid that the timeline will somehow be altered, that it will be a mistake that I can never rectify.
I know this is the way it is supposed to be. You have to be with her. It is your destiny. God, I hate that word. If you stay with her, things will be okay. Still, that doesn't make the pain go away.
Anyway . . . I did not have a choice. I did not want to betray you. It hurt me just as much as it did you. But I know I had to do it.
Where does that leave us? I'm not sure about you, but it leaves me hurt and angry and sometimes more miserable than I thought I could ever be. I don't know how long I will be able to watch you with her and not go insane. Perhaps I need to get away from all of this. Perhaps I should go away and start over. I'd rather do that than having to watch what I lost and could have had for the rest of my life.
It's not what I had envisioned my life to become. But maybe it's my destiny. We choose our own destiny, that's what you told me. And when the time is right, I will choose mine.
end of entry
TRACY CHAPMAN
LESS THAN STRANGERS
