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.
Love isn’t just smiles and laughter, its the tears and pain as well. Love is forgiveness and togetherness. It’s committing to a better tomorrow, even in the face of chaos. It’s staying, even in the most trying of times. Love isn’t always simple, but it is always willing to try.
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 have a hard time remembering the me before there was an us. Becoming so intertwined with each other, it’s as if we no longer exist as individuals. If there was a different version of my that once walked this Earth, she is a distant memory scattered through the memories of everyone who had the misfortune of meeting her. She was rougher than the me now, broken in places she wasn’t sure how to fix. The jagged edges caused problems in her relationships. But you were able to withstand them. You worked out the sharp corners. Maybe the pieces couldn’t all be fixed, but you found a way around them. And now here we are, the shadow of what we once were just a distant memory.
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…..
There are plenty of people I miss. Most of which I would never tell. Maybe it’s my pride, or maybe it’s the idea that they have been fine without me so far. And you? You, I miss the most.
You deserve more than whiskey fueled dreams and clumsy kisses. More than someone who can’t make up her mind. You deserve cotton candy filled skies and moonlit nights. You deserve promises made with a tongue grazing your lips. You deserve wedding bells and diamond rings. You deserve a life filled with laughter and happiness. You deserve more than I can give you.
She said my I love you’s sound more like apologies, for not knowing how to hold on to another human being, long before I was gone. And that I always seemed like I had one foot out the door, ready to run at the first sign of trouble. I was never taught how to love without contingencies and trust was just a fantasy. To protect my heart, I learned how to say goodbye as quickly as I said hello. In my world people were temporary and you shouldn’t hold on to anything so tightly. But then you stayed and you wrapped your arm so tightly around me, I couldn’t flee. You always had a part of your body touching mine, as if to quell the doubts in my mind. Every time I tried to flee, you grabbed my hand and pulled me back. You taught me how to stay. This time I won’t run, because you are the only place I know where to run to.