Do you remember the first time you fell out of love with someone? Did it happen gradually, before you even realized what was happening? Or was it immediate, like ripping off a Band-Aid? Did it make you want to cry, or curl in a ball? Or maybe it was a relief that the hurt was gone? People are not wounds, nor homes. You can’t pour yourself in them and hope to find happiness inside of it.
December 4, 2014
It’s been a few weeks now. Things are starting to improve, I think. I don’t spend every night crying on your empty pillow. Every once in a while I have a day free of tears.
Most of our friends have learned about our breakup. For this I am thankful, they don’t bring you up when I ‘m around. They all look at me as if I’m fragile, and at the moment your name leaves their mouth, I might shatter. They aren’t wrong.
I know this is what we needed. It wasn’t working anymore, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. We had built a life together; I haven’t pictured a future without you, in three years. We had said we were going to get married, have a couple of kids. What happened to us?
I know what happened to us. After all, I lived it.
I’ve been trying to pinpoint the exact moment it started to fall apart. Was it the night we had our first big fight? Your mom wanted you to spend Christmas with the family. You hadn’t seen them in years. I know I was being selfish, but I wanted to spend the holidays with the person I was in love with, and we both knew I wasn’t welcomed there.
We had been together for a little over two years then, and we had spent those last two Christmas’s with my family. They loved you as much as they loved me, and I wished your family could have done the same with me.
Or was it when I picked a fight with you a month later. I accused you of flirting with the waitress, at the restaurant we had our first date in. I see now you were acting the way you always acted. I had never gotten this jealous before, but then again you stopped making me feel like I was the only one you had eyes for.
It goes on from there. I’ve been analyzing every fight after that. They started to get more frequent and more vicious. Every day turned into us pushing each other away more, and more.
We were both equally to blame, our pride starting becoming more important to us than keeping our love alive. We both wanted to win, to be right. I’m starting to think we were both wrong.
I doesn’t really matter how it fell apart at this point, all that matters is that it’s over. You’re not here, and I’m alone. Days are passing without me being aware of the time, and I’m not sure where to go from here.
To be continued…
November 30, 2014
The end, it sounds so final. As if part of my life is over forever, I suppose it is. How do you move on from an ending? Do you crawl your way through life, hoping that one day things will get better?
We may have ended, but my life didn’t. I needed to remind myself that there was hope at the end of this tunnel vision I had for you. My life had been focused around our relationship, and I started to lose my sense of self inside. In this thought, I am trying to convince myself that I am better off without you. I’m concerned that, once this numbness wears off, I’m going to plummet into the pain of missing you.
Right now, I feel pretty much nothing. It’s as if I’m in shock. Is it actually over? How could we let us fall apart? We made a promise that was supposed to last forever.
This is just the calm before the storm. A storm which, I suspect, will last a long time. I’m sorry for whoever gets caught in my hurricane of missing you.
To be continued…
November 21, 2014
Today is the first Friday night without you. We had plans to go to a bar with our friends, or are they your friends? I don’t even remember anymore. What happens to friends during a breakup? Do we split them up? I’m at a complete loss of what to do.
I’ve been trying to figure out if I should go along with the plans. I have a fear that we both will show up there, and I won’t be able to keep myself from falling apart in front of you. These wounds are too fresh for me to be okay around you. Hell, I’m not even sure I would be able to hold it together in front of our friends.
Do they know we broke up? I haven’t really told anyone yet. The last thing I need is the pity that is sure to come along with that. Everyone knows how weak I am. You were always the strong one, keeping me together. Now, I’m liable to fall apart at a moment’s notice.
I should probably just stay home. No one wants to be around a person who can’t keep it together, especially, when they are trying to just have fun.
I’ll just send Macy a text and tell her I can’t make it.
To be continued…
November 19, 2014
The next few days were a constant reminder of the split. The first day back to work, a co-worker asked about you. I held my tears in as I told him we had decided to take a break. He followed with a sincere apologize; all I wanted was for him to stop talking.
I didn’t need or want anyone’s apologizes, I wanted to forget you. I don’t mean I wanted to evacuate all the memories we had together, no I wanted to keep those. What I needed was to stop visualizing you in my future.
The little things, liking picking a restaurant or a movie to watch, had always been a balancing act of both our likes and dislikes. Three years had created habits, I wasn’t sure I could break. My past had been filled with actions beside you; it wasn’t easy to erase you from my planning. But you aren’t here, and I guess I should now do the things you always hated.
Every time I wanted to go out to eat, I always thought about where you liked to go. How we would never get Chinese food, because you didn’t like it. I loved Chinese food and I haven’t had it in three years because of you.
Or choosing a movie, I thought how you didn’t like comedies, so they were out of the question. I didn’t see that big summer hit last year, because you thought it look dumb and didn’t want to waste money sitting through something you didn’t enjoy.
That’s when I decided what my next Friday night would be. I order my favorite dish from the Chinese place down the street. I went to Redbox after work, and got that summer hit I missed out on. I sat there, laughing, and eating the food I missed out on for three years. By the end of the movie, I started crying. I’m not sure why. Maybe it was because I missed you, but I was finding myself in your absence.
I got food poisoning from the food I ordered. At first, I thought about how it could have been avoided if we had figured out a way to works things out. But I pushed these thoughts as far out of my mind as I could. These things happen in life, kind of how break ups happen. I don’t think missing you is going to get much easier anytime soon.
To be continued..
November 16, 2014
I remember waking up the day after you left. The taste of you was lingering on my lips. Why did we have to part with a final kiss? It’s almost unbearable to think that I won’t have that ever again.
Your words were succinct. Straight to the point, our relationship was ending.
I feel stronger when I’m writing these words down. This journal doesn’t hear my voice crumble at the thought of you. It doesn’t see how much of a mess the person staring back at me through the mirror is. It doesn’t hear my quiet sobs as I try to drive off to sleep. Most of all, it doesn’t understand how hard I am trying to let you go.
I suppose this is the hardest part, the days where the memories replay over and over again, in every corner of our old apartment. You thought you were being kind to let me stay in our apartment while you left, but in it was a haunting reminder of everything we were leaving behind. I can’t stay here anymore; I’m going to have to start apartment hunting in the morning. Maybe Chelsea will let me stay with her until I can find somewhere your ghost can’t follow me.
Chelsea has helped me out a lot the past few weeks. She came over with a pint of ice cream the first week and let me cry into her shoulder. I didn’t want her to see me like that, but once she walked in the door the flow of tears came out quicker than I could find a way to stop them. I know she has seen you since our breakup, you guys are pretty close friends after all, but she doesn’t bring you up. Doesn’t tell me how you are managing, without me. And I don’t ask. I am thankful for that.
Is this normal? Is this what loving someone leaves you with in the end, enough heartbreak to cripple you? I am certain I don’t ever want to go through this again. Not that I’ll ever find someone to fill the empty space you left. You were the one. I keep telling myself this over and over, and we manage to screw it up.
Maybe I wasn’t the one for you. You told me I was. I’m trying to think back to everything you every said to me, to see if I missed something. Did your voice falter when you said you loved me? Was there doubt in your eyes when you held me? Did I miss the signs?
No, I know you loved me. You, of all people, would never say that if you didn’t mean it. Then why did we fail? I have so many questions, and I’m still searching for their answers. Answers, I probably won’t find.
To be continued…
I couldn’t be stuck in this any longer. Things never changed, yet I kept thinking they would. They say insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results. Our history proved that it was insane to keep holding on. We were destined to live the same rise and fall, over and over again.
I’ve heard that love isn’t always enough to keep two people together. I was starting to realize how true this was. Love had a way of poisoning our thoughts, and we could no longer make sense of this. Once the toxic nature of this had set in, there was no going back to the good times. We would always end up spewing venom with our words. Hating each other becomes synonymous for loving, and somehow we accepted this as our life.
The good moments started to come few and far in between, while the bad days started to seem more prevalent. I tried; I really did try to change hoping that would fix things. But falling back into old patterns came easy. I’m sorry I couldn’t find a way to resolve our problems, but it was starting to look impossible.
Love meant putting your pride aside, something we both seem to have trouble doing. There were many times we fought just because we both wanted to be right. Neither of us would give an inch, and those inches grew into miles. History created a canyon so big between us, all we could do was hope something, anything, could make it across. But every echo turned into a fight, and nothing sounded right.
I don’t even remember what the last fight was about, but I don’t think that really matters. What mattered was how I felt after it was over; like my whole life shatter in a single moment. All the hopes, dreams, and the plans we made were gone in one second.
You said it first, that maybe it was best we took a break. We both knew what a break meant; it was a nice way of saying it’s over. I remember feeling the tears well up in my eyes, and being so thankful you had the courage to say it first. There was no way I could have.
It didn’t end because we stopped loving each other, but rather in spite of it. I thought, in time, we would have grown together, but we had just been growing apart. Staying together any longer would have been for comfort, and truly not healthy. Despite knowing this and despite agreeing to the split I still missed you in everything that I did.
The first wave of missing you hit when I was getting ready for bed that night. As I climbed beneath the covers I realized I wouldn’t wake up feeling cold, because you had tugged them all to your side. I smiled to myself, thinking “This won’t be that hard.” That night I was the coldest I had ever been.
You weren’t there to kiss goodnight. Your arms didn’t hold me as I drifted off to sleep. It was the first time in years that I was alone in my bed. Alone was something I hadn’t been since I met you.
To be continued…
I hope my words linger long enough, for you to remember what we meant to each other. Not to make your heart heavy, rather a little lighter on the days it seems to be weighing you down.
November 15, 2014
Sometimes, I wonder if I’m writing just to fill the blank spaces inside myself. Are these words here to take away an emptiness I feel? What are we without them?
Our lives are shaped by the things we say, or don’t say. The silence can speak the things that got caught on your tongue.
I’ve spent most of my life manipulating words to my benefit, but I often find myself tripping over the right thing to say, and replacing it with the wrong thing.
It’s never been my intention to hurt anyone. As they say, “all is fair in love and war.” Is that why love can transform into war, in a matter of seconds? It’s crazy to think that one day I’m telling you how much I love these minuscule things about you, but the next I hate them. I hate them with so much passion it drives a wedge between us, a wedge that seemed to be growing at an increasingly fast pace.
I don’t hate you though. I could never truly hate you. The thing I hate is what we had become. I don’t want to just fill the empty spaces anymore. By the end of it, that’s all we were doing. It was an endless attempt to avoid an ending we knew was coming. It all started with the silence. When there were no more words to be said between us. Nothing that could fix this, anyways.
When did silence become awkward between us? How is it that, a year ago, our silence was so profound we couldn’t help, but love each other more inside of it? That we could be so comfortable existing in the same space, that it didn’t need to constantly be filled with words. At some point though, the silence became the beginning of the end, or was it the yelling.
I remember looking into your eyes and thinking, this is it, this is where we end. We both knew what was about to happen. We had just fought over something that, in the long run, was meaningless. That’s all that was left of us, endless fighting.
The room grew silent; there was nothing more I could say. All I could do was wait and hope you would fill it with meaning, but you hesitated and the moment was lost forever. That was it. The answer I had been searching for. It didn’t matter to you, it never had.
Silence wasn’t always a bad thing. I accepted this from you time after time, but this was different. All I wanted from you was to fill it with something, anything. To show me that holding on wasn’t a mistake, that we could find a way to make this work. You gave me nothing, but this was typical. I don’t know what I was expecting.
To be continued…..
I lost my passion, beneath these dark clouds. It avoids me in my searches. Life seems so empty without it. I think I left it inside of you. You must have taken it when you left me. I didn’t find it in the box of stuff you returned. Now I don’t have either of you.