I thought I was over them, but no life is not that easy. I guess. So hello again. :)
And everytime I meet someone I wait for them to sound like you.
I wait for them to smile like you.
I wait for them to feel like you.
They never do because there is only one of you, and forever I will wonder what it feels like
to be loved by no one but you.
The pain of learning how to unlove you comes in waves... I can go weeks without you crossing my mind; then I see something that reminds me of you. I realise how long it has been since I have seen you, and I can no longer remember the small things like your smile. In that moment I feel almost guilty- guilty for no longer missing you all the time.
- which seems completely crazy because you never felt guilty for leaving me. I guess this is the hurt that comes with moving on... Sometimes you have bare these painful nights until you completely forget the one you once loved.
Why am I the crazy one for reacting to your hurtful, cruel, heart wrenching actions with the same cruelty?
It’s been really hard the past couple weeks. I’ve tried so many things. I talk to strangers online now and banter about our hypothetical children and marriage, I ask them about their hobbies and their work. I generally feel a dull ache in my chest that sometimes intensifies to stronger pain - all of which makes it hard to breathe moment to moment. I’d like to cry but it really just gets caught in my throat and I can’t let it out.
My online therapist asked if I wanted to talk about what happened today and I suddenly felt overwhelmed to tears. Like someone finally asked me and gave permission for the floodgates to inch open just a little. Because I’ve had no one to talk to about any of this. It’s been hard.
I have moments when I think I’ll be fine, moments of hope, joy, euphoria, sincere appreciation for the people around me who show they love me. It catches me off guard: who? me? you want to spend that kind of time with me? Nick is one of those people and I can’t tell him. Sam is too but I don’t want to admit to him how much it hurts.
When I walked into your bedroom everything smelled like you, the same way I remembered the last time I visited. I saw your things there - the bed I’d slept in many nights, now perched in a new, more spacious corner. Nick asked me if you should move your recliner to your room and I wondered who else would get to sit there.
I miss having access to all of your thoughts about your day to day. But I guess those weren’t all your thoughts after all. Because I’m so confused by what you actually thought the entire time. I asked you if you were still not infatuated with me because I didn’t want you to kiss me just because. You lied, and then said a lot more that made me cautiously optimistic. You said the date rekindled things. You said you were going to kiss me when we said goodbye. You said the week we didn’t talk killed you. You said you were glad we had finally put those 8 years behind us. You said you liked me and wanted me close. You said I’d have to try really hard to get rid of you now. You said you wanted to take me on a second date. You said you liked hanging out with me. You said there was no one else. You said you thought it was worth it, worth the risk of upsetting our friends and maybe ending poorly. You said you’d only put me down at our 5 year reunion. You said you’d make me watch hockey. You said you were trying. You asked if I’d be mad if you took the less sneaky room. You said you thought we’d be fine despite our similar preferences in bed and that you were excited for in person demonstrations. You said we should tell Nick a month after I moved back instead of in a year. You said a lot of things, and now my head can’t stop spinning that all these things were false. And now you’ve withdrawn permission for me to tell you how I feel. You never understood why it hurt me. You just walked away and now I can’t ever say.
I hate that you were always so pessimistic. I was too, I said a lot of callous things trying to take things slow and level set expectations so that when it did end it would be well anticipated. But we never gave things a fair chance. We started when we shouldn’t have and ended when we shouldn’t have. We never got to feel how it would be in person. To watch movies and get ice cream and go on dates and sneak around.
I hate how unaffected you are. That you don’t show any compassion or suggestion of how things used to be. I hate how you made me look so unbearably stupid with your false words. I hate how it feels - each day dragging on unbearably. I hate that you never reached out again. As if I didn’t matter at all, never did. Which was probably true.
I hate how I walk through the field, by the hockey rink of the all boys school down the street, thinking of you. I hate how suffocated I feel. The weight on my chest. I hate how I can’t wait another minute longer to talk to you about all this.
I so wish I could redo. That there would be another chance. That the words weren’t lies. That you still feel something and want something there. That the plans we made could still come true.
At least I finally feel okay enough to seek other men for distraction. But the thought of being close to them repulses me. I’m mean to them, the way you were mean to me. I see them hurt from how nonchalant I am. I know what they want to hear and I withhold it. No matter how funny, smart, tall, rich, or interested they are, when I wake up in the morning the pain is still there. I forget about it sometimes, but it always comes back when I’m alone again, with my thoughts again. So many thoughts. I can’t sleep. I’m not a good coworker, daughter, or friend these days. I see everything as a potential for distraction or something to be used to make me happy. It doesn’t help to know that even the most successful people in the world suffer this at one point or another. It was my first time, and you bruised something deep within. I know it’s not a big deal rationally. That we likely wouldn’t have worked out even if we’d tried, that life is long and full of surprises. But that doesn’t make this moment easier. I prayed so hard not to feel this way for too long. I’m tired. I want to sleep. I want to enjoy and embrace life and the good things in it again. But I can’t. I see how beautiful my life is and all the things I should praise God for but I can’t. I see everyone else carrying on happily and I can’t. I can’t wait. I can’t sleep. I can’t think. I can’t get out of bed. There seems to be no peace. Nothing to look forward to. I think about how peaceful I felt taking my walks and how anxiety ridden I’d felt before we were together. How I thought I’d finally gotten beyond that point. But I am back here again, a full year later, not better at all. At least then there was hope. Now there is just sad finality.
Tedros' face was harsher than she remembered, his presence darker, the innocent, boyish glow . . . gone. But deep inside his eyes, she could still see him. The boy she'd fought to forget. The boy who came in her sleep. The boy her soul couldn't live without.
Soman Chainani, from A World Without Princes
I’ve been waiting for the day when I get over you. I’ve been waiting for it since lovers day. Telling myself that it hurts right now but one day it won’t. That day never came. God please take this pain away. Please.
I Shouldn't But I Am
It's been more than a year since you left me, I should be over it by now right?
I shouldn't still be yearning for you.
I shouldn't still be thinking about you.
I shouldn't still be wondering how your day went.
I shouldn't still be wishing to hold your hand again.
I shouldn't still be wishing I could wake up next to you once more and make you breakfast.
I shouldn't still be wondering what you think about something.
I shouldn't still be wanting your opinion, and wanting to know how you feel about something.
I shouldn't still be dreaming of you in my sleep.
I shouldn't still be hearing you laugh when I drift off in thought.
I shouldn't still want to give you the world and do absolutely anything for you.
I shouldn't be so stuck on you, but unfortunately I am.
I wish I had never gotten to know you.
Not because you hurt me, although you have, but because getting to know you ruined the image I had of you. I wish that when others spoke so highly of you I could add in my own opinion instead of just nodding my head and staying silent. I wish that I hadn’t gotten to know you as the person who would keep walking if I fell behind, the person who would only ever show up if it would benefit you. I wanted to know you as someone I could lovingly turn to, not someone who would find a way to make their life always the more important topic.
I just wish you had just lived up to my image of you, the image you give off to the world.