Leaving Heaven

All I ever wanted was to get used to you. I owe this to always yearning for an easy life. When I find pieces of heaven, letting go becomes my worst nightmare. My life solely depends on holding on to her. My career, the person whose conversations take me to dimensions I’ve never been to before, the cigarette that calmed me down, even, the alcohol that made life’s troubles a blur and my nights a living utopia.

Heaven is where I always want to be. Its absence is a void, it is hell, and while I may have never had the simplest experience of hell, I never fathom going through it. I despise hell. I will never go through hell, not willingly, at least. Heaven is my pride and joy. She is everything I have ever worked for with pinches of more. Heaven makes me live without ever having to wonder what it feels like to want something. Whenever she’s not around, I’m quick to run around until I find her, until her warmth encompasses the cold cocoon surrounding my heart. Whenever she’s about to drift away from me, I’m quick to drag her back and remind her why she’s with me in the first place. Heaven doesn’t usually talk back, she’s a good listener, very calm and a servant at heart, she will stay, even if she has no reason to.

Because heaven does not leave, I stay forever with her, I’ve never really allowed myself to see if there’s more to her. Why bother? She’s mine forever anyway. When I got her, I stopped learning about her. I never looked sideways or deep enough in case she has anything more in store for me. I got her early on, why bother chasing more? If she had more I’d have seen it by now. As a matter of fact, it is better for me to collect more little heavens and have them with me rather than going through hell to see the depths of my heaven’s glorious nature.

Heaven is only just what I have right now? Not exactly, to be frank. Heaven (as high as she is), has depth. She has reasons why she never joined any girl trios after seventh grade. Heaven has reasons why she keeps sending me on missions outside my job description. She has a backstory behind the limiting of her consumption to persons over the age of 18. Most definitely, heaven has a reason why I can’t seem to find her certificate in my room anymore. She knows I love her so much and she does love me too but she might not be able to experience my love at full force because I am too busy scraping the surface, so she feels under appreciated.

Heaven once wasn’t mine. She was someone else’s. Or maybe she was new, waiting for me, her first love. She was once just a solid piece of gold, silver, bronze, stainless steel or whatever it is they made the medals I won ten years ago from. Maybe heaven wasn’t meant to be mine at all but bias led her into my arms. Does it even matter how she’s mine anyway? As long as I am her owner now.

I need to leave heaven. I will never know her true capacity if I never go through hell again. Doesn’t matter that I went through it once. Hell awaits anyway if I never leave. Staying is the curse which befalls those who hold on to something until it’s true value is less than nothing. Going through hell again is the blessing which exalts those who are willing to learn and truly know what the depths of heaven truly feel like. The heaven I know is a ‘was’ although I believe she ‘is’ and forever ‘will be’.

Heaven needs to be left. Holding on to her is holding on to that which exists but might not be of great value right now. Heaven needs to go. I’ll get her back when I actually reinvest in my relationship and maybe apply for a promotion. I’m leaving heaven, not because she was never good for me, but because I want a better me for her and a better her for me. I depart, on my way to the realms of hell. Heaven gives me peace and is lovely and overwhelms me with nostalgia, but maybe when I wake up from her dreamy world, it will be too late to achieve anything else because I held onto that which I needed to let go of.