Confession: I Don't Want to Heal

Healing feels like forgetting.
And forgetting feels like betrayal.

I don't want to heal.
I don't want to move on.
I don't want to get better.

Because healing feels like forgetting,
and forgetting feels like betrayal,
and I can't betray you,
even if you've already betrayed me.

The pain is familiar.
It's comfortable.
It's mine.

The pain reminds me of you,
of what we had,
of what we lost.

And if I heal,
if I let go of the pain,
I'll lose that connection.
I'll lose the last thread
that ties me to you.

So I hold onto the pain,
I clutch it like a lifeline,
I keep it close,
because it's the only thing I have left.

I don't want to heal
because healing means accepting
that it's over,
that it's done,
that you're gone.

I don't want to heal
because healing means moving forward,
and moving forward means leaving you behind,
and I can't leave you behind,
because you're still here,
in my pain,
in my memory,
in my heart.

The pain is proof
that it was real,
that it mattered,
that you mattered.

And if I heal,
if I let go of the pain,
I'll lose that proof.
I'll lose the evidence
that you existed,
that we existed,
that it was real.

So here's my confession:
I don't want to heal,
because healing feels like forgetting,
and I can't forget you,
even if forgetting would make me happy.

I don't want to heal,
because the pain is my connection to you,
and I can't let go of that connection,
even if it's killing me.

I don't want to heal,
because healing means moving on,
and moving on means letting go,
and I can't let go,
because letting go means losing you completely,
and I'm not ready to lose you completely.

So I'll stay broken,
I'll stay in pain,
I'll stay here,
holding onto the memory of you,
holding onto the pain of losing you,
holding onto the connection,
even if it's the only thing left.

I don't want to heal,
because healing would mean losing you,
and I can't lose you,
even if you're already gone.