Footprints on my Heart

Prologue

There are things I want in this life that I need to survive. I have lived so long without them, I feel as though my soul is shriveling up. How long can one person live on maybes, possiblys and somedays? How long before the thing that made them beautiful and happy just dies?

My eyes drifted shut as I remember that one conversation I had with him before I left. It was one painful afternoon and up until today, It still sting.

I sighed. "I don't know what to say, Travis." My mind cant comprehend this. Something, somewhere has gone terribly wrong.

"So, you want to go?" Helpless. Hopeless. I am completely out of control. I can barely form a coherent thought, let alone be in control of anything.

"I just don't know. You know It's my dream, Trav. I wanted to make my Mom proud of me for once" I looked up into his eyes and found that there is no light. No glow. Just pain. Heart wrenching, never ending, world-shattering pain.

" So.... that's it? I don't even know what this means. I'm going home, Monique."
I fought back the tears welling up in my eyes. 'Oh god, what do want of me? You gave me a heart to love with. You gave me Travis to love. But you first gave me a mind and a drive to succeed in whatever I set my mind to.'

I looked at the 18-year-old Travis that time. His eyes were tired. I could see the sadness behind them and it made me sick, knowing I caused him to be this way

"Please. Just talk to me." I said as I pulled him back to me

"I don't know what to say."

"Tell me that you love me."

Travis sighed. "You know that I do love you, Flower. But it's just going to make things worse if we keep saying that and then you decide to leave"

"Look at me" I said and Travis stared at me for several seconds. The look in his eyes told me everything. I knew what was coming.

It has been Five years since that day and I stil wanted to tell him what I felt. I wanted for him to know just what he did to me. I didn't know how else to say it. I couldn't just blurt it out. It's not like I am way too shy and awkward to do that, it's just that I feel like I'm no longer in place to do so.

I shook off my doubt as easily as the fear that no longer imprisoned myself, now that I had traveled across an ocean filled with now success and fame that I always wanted, I began to ask my self. Was I happy? Was I contented? If his love proved to be real, in the flesh, becoming an expatriate would be a revolution worth fighting, even if I was my only adversary.

I know the next time I see him I am going to be flushed, red faced, and probably stutter and stammer. However, I will try and remain composed. I will try and remain calm and collected.

I was happy and puzzled at the same time. I don't know which is more painful doing something and wishing you didn't or doing nothing and wishing you had

The letter that I was carrying with me like a trained pooch was starting to taste bitter, His letter was stamped at a post office on Philippines, Then, my thunderbolts of laughter quieted down and tears began falling wherever the phrase "Je t'aime" rose up from the letter's matte paper in three-dimensional sentimentality.

Now, as I held the letter from him tautly and felt heat rising up into my hands, his sprinkling of emotions came down hard on me fragile states of mind like an unexpected summer shower. I sought shelter from the tear-blotted words and paper, flipping over the letter with damp, trembling fingers a safe distance from my quaking heart.