I didn’t plan it like this. I have no plan. Maybe that’s a problem, maybe it’s not.
Last night I suddenly found myself asking my partner for a break. It was incredibly hard, because a) I still love her very much b) I knew she would not be happy about taking a break c) I absolutely hate disappointing her, and generally anything that makes her unhappy. But it was the right thing to do, and I have to keep telling myself that despite all of the guilt I feel.
It’s not like I’m unhappy being with her. On the contrary, she makes me so happy and content with life. But there are things I need to learn about myself, and I need to learn them alone. Like, for instance, how to have a life a part from my relationships. I disappear in the people I love, and I stop doing what I need and do what they need instead. And that’s not the worst quality to have, I know, but it’s not fair and it’s not what I want. I want to be able to love someone and be self-reliant at the same time. I want relationships that are healthy, and not functioning as my lifeboat.
She’s an amazing person. She makes me laugh, holds me when I cry, surprises me all the time, and inspires me to pursue my dreams. But the thing is, I don’t know what my dreams are anymore. And while I was happy to be with her, even long distance, I found myself trying to live through her. I would wait for our Skype conversations each night, and her texts each morning. Everything else was just passing time. So I found myself questioning if that was the kind of life I wanted to live for the next two months, until I see her again.
It boils down to this: I’m not ready for the kind of serious relationship where you start thinking in terms of years from now. I’m only 21, and I have so much left to figure out about what I want in life. I don’t want to decide who I’m going to marry because I haven’t even decided when, where, and how I’m going to grad school. I haven’t decided what kind of career I want to have. I haven’t decided where I want to live, where I want to travel, or even where I’m going to live this fall when my lease is up on my current apartment. I’m just not ready, and I’d rather be honest about that than try to make promises I can’t keep.
It hit both of us last night when my partner (ex-partner?….sigh) said, “I know that you’re the best thing for me.” And I said….nothing. At least not at first. “You seem so certain about that, and the thing is, that’s what I want.” I wiped off my tears, “I want to be that certain about something, whether it’s a person or a place or anything. But…I’m just not.”
It was the kind of brutal honesty that leaves you with nothing to say. I looked at her and could practically hear both our hearts breaking, because that’s not what she wanted to hear and not what I wanted to say. But it was the truth, and while I hope one day I can say all of the things that make her happy, I’m just not there yet. And I’ll be damned if I hurt her even more by leading her on and pretending to be ready for things I’m not, like Fred sort of did with me.
So that’s where I’m at. I think this is important because I don’t want to lose her, and I didn’t want to break up. But I did it, I made the hard decision, because I believe it was the right one for me. And I’m not ashamed of not being ready, and I’m not going to beat myself up and say I was the bad guy.
I’m just a young person, searching for a purpose, a dream, and a chance to become the person I’ve always wanted to be. I need time to grow up, and then someday, whenever that may be, I’m going to use that progress to build a life with someone I love. And I’ll not only be the person they deserve, but the person I deserve, too.
Six. Six red streaks that stung in a dull, pathetic way. What was I doing? I thought I was done dealing with my emotions in this way. Why did this silly habit I developed in middle school follow me into adulthood? Why couldn’t I just open up to people the way I could open up my skin?
It was the most cuts I’ve given myself in one sitting. I didn’t bother thinking of a cover story in the moment; they were easily concealable and the only person at risk of seeing them would be Isaac…and he wouldn’t see them if I played my cards right. Like slipping on an old shoe, my secretive tendencies fit right back into place as if they never left. The only person that knew I was cutting was Charles.
I hadn’t spoken to him except for a handful of texts for an entire year. But I knew that he, of all people, would understand the most and judge me the least. He was frank with me, “Let’s face it, _____. If [Fred] cheated on you, it’s your fault. If global warming melts the ice caps, it’s your fault. If everyone in the world dies from nuclear attack, it’s your fault. Everything is your fault.” I laughed, “How the fuck do you know me so well?” He was right. I blame myself for everything, tell myself that I’m weak for giving into sadness, and unleash anger at myself for letting my emotions show. Instead of addressing my emotions, and letting myself feel them, I tell myself that I shouldn’t have them. And all if does is make them worse. “It’s a stupid, fucked-up cycle,” I told Charles. “And I hate that I keep falling into it.”
We talked on the phone for four hours. While we did touch on my recent set-backs, we also talked about his life, about future goals, about people we went to high school with and all the old memories we shared. Suddenly I was 17, back in high school, and walking through the woods with him all over again. And I remembered why I fell in love with him.
I wish we could be friends. He’s the only ex I should have in my life I this point. But our lives are going in different directions, so any kind of constant communication at this point would be moot. And besides, clinging to the past won’t help me develop my future. I need to figure this out on my own. It’s like Charles said, not trusting people won’t help me feel better, or change the past. Fred made the choice to cheat on me, and it was his alone to make. It’s not my fault for trusting him. Trusting people does not make them cheat on you.
I really want to trust Isaac. But I also don’t want to scare him off. I thought when I’d finally divulge my depressive tendencies to him that they would be past tense, and less scary, but eventually he’ll see cuts or scars that I can’t cover up. Eventually I’ll need him to be that person I run to when I can’t stop myself. And as much as I wish I didn’t put that pressure on my partner, and would instead go to friends, that’s just not how I operate. And that doesn’t make me weak. (Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself.)
I’ve lost any romantic love I’ve ever had, but that doesn’t mean love is the problem or that I am. Time just has a way of pulling people apart when their lives are headed down different roads, and only time can make those roads intersect.
I’m not looking for love necessarily, but I am looking for faith in love. “Alright, I’m going to finally get some sleep here,” Charles told me. “Wait,” I said. “Can I ask you one last serious question?” “Alright,” he said. “Do you believe in soul mates?” He paused. “No…maybe…yes? Yes, I think I do.” I decided right then that if Charles could still have that kind of hope in life, after everything I put him through, that maybe I could too.
This week just totally fucked me over. I don’t want to get into details, because for once I don’t feel like crying. I guess I’m stuck in denial, because I haven’t watched a single sappy movie or invested in a pint of Ben & Jerry’s (although my brownie consumption is getting out of hand). But apart from my lack of concentration in my classes and avoidance of all homework, I’ve been doing alright….considering.
What can I say? In one week I lost the two people I love the most. Not “lost” lost….they are alive and well as far as I know, but they have both disappeared from my life, as if they weren’t the two things that I have thought the most about, felt the most about, and loved the most in these past 6 months.
My ex-girlfriend and I parted ways. It was painful and awful, but unfortunately it was for the best…our roles in each others’ lives just aren’t what we hoped they’d be, so we made the decision not to be in each others’ lives anymore. And then there’s Fred, which I will sum up in four words: complete heartbreak/unanticipated betrayal. But I guess I had it coming. I’ve fucked up a lot of things with both of them, and let’s face it, during this “alone time” I’ve had I haven’t exactly been alone.
But I’m proud of myself, because I haven’t completely fallen apart. If anything, I’m in survival mode…strictly relying on myself and my roommates. I’m still heartbroken, and in terms of the Fred situation I am more angry than I have ever been at anyone, but I’m calm. I listen to my music, I focus on bills, reading, and cooking, and when I can’t hold it together anymore I stare at the ceiling and let the tears fall. The silence between both of them and myself is killing me, but it’s given me a lot to think about as well.
With Fred: I can’t keep fighting for relationships by myself simply because it hurts too much to let them go…I can’t keep doing this by myself.
With My Ex-Girlfriend: I can’t make the same mistakes people have made with me…I have to consider the position I put the other person in, and recognize when the best thing for them isn’t being with me.
All I can do is keep going and trust myself….because that’s the only option I have left.
So much can change in a month. A month ago, I felt like I was scrambling to pick up the pieces of myself lost to depression and stress. I had just survived a breakup with someone I really loved, I had barely patched together old friendships, and I was sleeping on the floor of an empty apartment. And here I am, a month later, happier than I’ve been all year and excited about my life. It didn’t change over night; I’m still taking antidepressants, I’m still figuring out the role my ex(es) play in my life, I’m still working on building back my friendships to where they used to be. But everything feels different.
I found this in my documents from around then; back when my breakup was still hitting me in all sorts of ways…maybe you’ll relate to it, maybe you won’t:
And it hurts just so fucking much. That moment when you look at someone and know that you will never have some memories back. You’ll never lie naked in bed on a lazy Saturday, you’ll never kiss the back of their neck while they do the dishes, you’ll never feel that kind of invincible love as you two drive off into the night. And the worst part is that they still have the same eyes, they still have those lips. They have the arms that held you and the heartbeat you listened to when you wanted to thank God or whoever for making that human being. You’ll look at them and it will look the same, but feel so different.
I’ll never think of incense or bananas or jeeps the same way again. Every person who passes by me on a bike makes me do a double take. There are streets I never would have gone down, restaurants I would have never ate at, and people I would have never known, if it hadn’t of been for you. Life goes on, but it goes in a slightly different direction because of you.
I wish I would have told you I loved you more at the end. I wish I had welcomed all of those conversations, those kisses, those ideas. I wish I could have been better for you, and I wish that you could have been better for me. It’s one of the worst kinds of sadness to love someone and know that you don’t belong together.
It hurts to look at you. It hurts not to kiss you. It hurts that you don’t need me like you used to. Everything hurts, but is worth it if I can be a part of your world. I don’t want to hope you’re happy, I want to know you’re happy.
Everything is different now, but some of those feelings will always be the same. The people we love change us forever; they give us love that we pass on to the world through the smallest acts of kindness and make us strong enough to love despite any flaws. It’s my own personal belief that love never disappears, that I’ll always love Charles, Fred, and my ex-girlfriend, and that it simply evolves into what we need to change us for the better.
Pretty sappy, right?
I guess this is it. This is the post where I unveil it all, what happened between us. This is when it becomes real, permanent, over. This is the real break-up post.
I bet you all saw it coming. My then-boyfriend and I were stuck in a situation where he was unhappy and I was unhappy because he was unhappy. I was dating my girlfriend, falling in love with her, and meanwhile all of that romance my then-boyfriend and I had was slipping away. We still love each other, we still know each other better than almost anyone else, we were still committed, but we had turned into best friends. We turned into two people who wanted to squeeze blood from a rock. We want different futures, or at least different visions of the future, right now. He wants planning, I want ambiguity. I want him in my college town with me, he has to stay there. If we lived in the same place and I hadn’t fallen in love with my girlfriend we could have fixed it, but even if he was here, if I was still with her not much would have changed. We still would have broken up.
Two years. Two of the best years of my life. The best birthday since I was a kid, the first college road trip, the best bands discovered, the best TV shows, the best movies, the best late night conversations, the best car rides, the best trips into the city and the first time I felt ready for that scary future stuff, for becoming an adult, for that true, serious love. Two years of working and waiting and planning–left only to memory.
What am I supposed to say? I love him. I wanted it to work so badly…I didn’t chose to fall in love with my girlfriend, just like I didn’t chose to be bisexual or fall out of romantic love with him. It just happened. My brain chose one path and my heart chose another. And it makes me so so sad, because he was my family, my best friend, my whole world. And then the world changed. I guess I changed.
Fred. That’s what I’m going to call him, after two years of simply referring to him as “my boyfriend”. I thought I’d never have to give him a name, that “my boyfriend” would remain stable until it one day became “my husband”. But now I guess he belongs to the list of ex-boyfriends, so a name is needed. I wish I could call him by his real name, because I love it so much, and it is the perfect description and explanation for everything he is and does. He is one of the best people I have ever met, if not the best, and I blew it. I let the world, my heart, tear us a part. He was nothing but kind to me, and I wandered. Why did I do that? How could I do that?
I have no regrets. But this isn’t the life I wanted for myself, this isn’t what I prepared for. I feel relief that I’m no longer stringing him along in my indecision, but I feel so much pain that it’s over. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to be with my girlfriend and I love her very much, and I’m excited about the next few months we will share together. I’m just also sad, that’s all. It will be such a long, arduous process to get over Fred, if that’s even possible.
We’ve decided to remain best friends, and keep our mutual friends mutual. We both agreed right away that breaking up our relationship should not include destroying a place for each other in our lives, because after two years it is unthinkable to live pretending like we never happened. So I’m glad to have him in that respect.
My life has only the vaguest outline of a direction. Once my dad and brother find out I am bisexual my family won’t be much of a family. My girlfriend leaves for Costa Rica in August and I still don’t know what will happen to our relationship when she does. My friendships and either physically or emotionally distant (or, in the case of my roommate, hopefully healing from my many absences). My mental health is a toss up. School is coming to a close. My boyfriend is now my best friend, and I can’t be with him in the same way anymore.
I guess I’m holding it together pretty alright, considering. But mostly, right now I’m caught up between stress, sadness, and happiness, and numbness. I don’t know…I don’t know what to say anymore.
Yesterday was like a dream. Don’t you ever have those days, when you have so much love in your heart and so much happiness in your mind that the rest of the world just disappears? When nothing else exists outside of this moment, this person, this feeling? Yesterday was one of those days.
There is so much I could say about her. Her eyes, her smile, the way she smirks when she says something cocky and the flash of surprise crossing her face I say something cocky back. How contemplative and serious she can be in private moments, how happy-go-lucky and confident she is surrounded by others. I could go on for days about her, but never fully sum up what I see and feel. Some things can’t be put into words (and it is always those things that we wish we could write about, isn’t it?).
I stayed in my college town a night and day after my spring break started. At first I felt guilty about this, because that time is supposed to belong to my boyfriend. But then, just look at that sentence: “that time is supposed to belong to my boyfriend”. Since when does my time belong to anyone? Since when do I not dictate how and where and with whom I give my time to? So I decided to stay a day, and listen to my dad be all, “So what were you doing? Who were you with? Why were you doing that?” this morning. I hate having to give a cover story. I shouldn’t need a cover story. But then again, if I want my girlfriend Jessie to meet my parents (which, still sitting on the fence about that, because it will probably not be pleasant for either of us) then I can’t just drop the “Hey Dad, I was with my girlfriend because I’m bisexual and I’m still dating my boyfriend because we are in a polyamorous relationship right now” bomb and then just walk out of the room. No, as much as I’d like to do that, I can’t if I ever want Jessie to come home with me and see my town and my friends.
I hate thinking about how if she were to visit, we’d be closeted. No holding hands, no kissing, nothing until we were out of my neighborhood. I am proud of our relationship and I don’t want to hide it. But I can’t just start making out with her in front of my family if I don’t want to risk the “you’re getting kicked out” conversation with my dad. And then there’s the issue of time again. Jessie can see me most of the time at school, and my boyfriend only gets to see me when I’m home. I would be robbing him of some of “his time” again. It’s like a balancing act with these two relationships: whose turn is it to spend time with at the risk of distancing myself from the other? Who do I do damage control with and who do I build up the happy moments with? It’s hard to try to fulfill two other people’s needs along with my own.
I keep looking at Jessie and my boyfriend and think to myself, “How did I get so lucky to be with this incredible person? How on earth can I deserve someone as loving as they are?” Falling in love with two people is the easy part. The hard part is showing both of those loves at the same time.
I want more days like yesterday, when I was free and warm and so so happy. I want those days with both my boyfriend and girlfriend. Those are the days where you feel like you are living. Those are the days too full of love for any guilt to slip by. I stand by my choices, and by the two people I love. Now I need other people in my life who love me, like my family, to stand by me.
It’ll be a process, but someday I hope to get there. I want that day, when my parents tell me it’s okay to be who I am and love who I love, to be more than a dream. I want it to be real.
So to describe catch you all up of the happenings of my life, let me start by saying that last week was terrible. And this week isn’t.
I just missed my boyfriend so incredibly much. Every moment I felt like my insides were aching, and my eyes heavy with potential tears. Monday was fine, sleepy and over before I knew it, but Tuesday and Wednesday were excruciating. There was snow so campus was closed, no classes, and constant Netflix. My roommate was staying at her boyfriend’s apartment so I had the room to myself. At first I was relieved, but soon I became mopey, and the room became a box. There was no one to talk to, and I was lonely. Thursday was a tired version of the same thing, only I was out-and-about and feeling resentful of the happiness other people had. At the very end of the night I Skyped my boyfriend, though, which helped.
I told him he was the one. It’s something I’ve been thinking for a long time, but afraid to say. Kind of like when I first knew I loved him; it took me a good long while before I actually had the guts to say it. Well, that night I needed him. I was needy and desperate and sad and I just figured if I was already so exposed then telling him wasn’t much of a risk. So I did, and he just sat there looking at me and I just sat there panicking and sneaking looks at him. And so right away I typed, “sorry” even though I wasn’t sorry at all. And he typed, “Don’t be sorry!” Then we told each other “I love you” and I changed the subject. But I know it’s true. It’s true right now, and I’m confident it always will be. Because as much as the seriousness of our relationship scared me last semester, breaking up made me realize that there is no point of being of scared if I have him in my life. Because he is there for me, through thick and thin, no matter where we stand. And I want no one else by my side in life. So basically, if he suddenly drove here tonight and proposed I’d say yes.
Not that I’m ready to get married anytime soon. We are both poor college kids and ideally I’d like to be older when I start thinking about all those marriage shenanigans. I’m just saying, that’s how committed I am. And honestly, I always sort of imagined that being so committed would make me less independent, but I’m not. If he was always around, I’d still like to do my own thing and hang out with my friends and go to work and all of that. Life doesn’t stop for him, but rather it includes him. Whether he is here or over 100 miles away, he is always on my mind. Well, “mostly” I should say…I’d like to think I’m not creepy enough to think of him while going to the bathroom and weird stuff like that.
Anyway, so enough of that romantic stuff… I started taking my Prozac again, and over the weekend I hung out with my few college friends, so I’m feeling better. I’m also throwing myself into helping promote The Vagina Monologues, which is Saturday! I can’t wait for the show, to go up on stage and ask, “What does your vagina smell like?” Hahaha… But in all seriousness, the education I’ve gained through my experience in participating so far has been incredibly eye-opening. Domestic violence, incest and sexual assault, as well as so many other issues many women face need to be talked about and STOPPED. I’ve seriously been considering making a social issue/feminism page on the ol’ blog for some time now…What do you think?
But what’s also super-duper exciting is that my boyfriend is coming into town on Valentine’s Day and will get to go see me perform in it!! Yay!!! Having a super cool feminist-friendly boyfriend is the best thing ever in my book. And I love that he is so supportive of things that are important to me. So I’m feeling pretty great about Friday. And I’m not going to worry about how I’ll feel when he will have to leave on Sunday, because I’m taking this one step at a time. It’ll be okay.
Doing things for a good cause like The Vagina Monologues and learning about people who need to be stood up for makes me feel powerful in a good way, like I have the chance to change someone else’s life. The people I’ve met through it are super cool, too. All of them are really educated about social issues and are super open-minded. They are the type of people you could talk to without having them judge you, and that’s a rare find.
But yeah, other than that, not much is going on with me. I finished all of the Mad Men and Orange Is the New Black on Netflix, and on Friday House of Cards starts up again. I went to French tutoring today, because it turns out I still epically suck at it. It’s been so cold that my hair freezes on my way to class when I shower in the morning. My roommate is driving me crazy. Dining hall food is losing its flavor. It’s all just another day in my life.
I’ve realized something. Something terrible. Something so horribly predictable that it was almost as if every stupid romantic comedy movie got together and designed it. This is something that has been lingering but hasn’t been brought to my direct attention until now: I am still in love with my ex-boyfriend.
See, this is the part about love that pisses me off. You can’t shake the feeling. You can go without seeing a person for a month, dismiss the relationship from your mind completely, and still know that if they were to show up on your doorstep just to kiss you one last time that you would melt into a giant puddle of I’m-reconsidering-my-whole-life. Which is terrible, because I don’t even regret breaking up. In fact, I think it’s one of the few sensible, I’m-ignoring-my-stupidness-and-not-screwing-this-up decisions I’ve ever made. So why can’t I just pack away the loving him like I did with all of the other stuff that he ever gave to me or reminded me of us?
Love is difficult, complicated. Like people. It’s hard to let go of that I’d-take-a-bullet-for-you feeling. Because even though you’ve broken up, they still have all of those freckles you’ve found so cute and those arms that have held you while you cried, those lips that you kissed a thousand times…. God, I’m about to puke…. I hate it. I’m fighting off being angry that our relationship didn’t work. If two people love each other, shouldn’t the rest take care of itself? Why the hell does life have to shove its way in and bully your relationship until it shatters?
But, I wouldn’t take it back. I guess I’m at the part where you deal with all the good memories, all the moments that made you think, “God, or fate or unicorns or whatever the hell did this, thank you for putting this person in my life. Thank you for their existence. Thank you for letting me be alive to witness it.” And that’s a lot harder to deal with than the memories of the relationship’s downfall. You still love them, and you know that there’s nothing left to do with that feeling. You can no longer give them that love, it no longer makes your life feel secure and put together. The only thing that’s left is to let it go, which you can’t do overnight.
I hate feeling like I don’t have control over my emotions. I hate that I won’t be able to love someone else until I get over my ex. But most of all, I hate that the happiness we once shared is gone.
As long as it makes him happier, though, I won’t mind.
Well, we broke up.
It happened on Tuesday, after I got out of my advising appointment and found out the schedule I made myself previously was completely out of the question. I was just walking to my dorm and we were texting the normal, “Hi, how are ya?” stuff. Then when I got inside my room I asked him if we could talk on the phone. And I couldn’t press call, because I knew it’d be the last time we’d talk to each other as boyfriend and girlfriend. But he called me. And we did the whole, “Hi, how are ya?” thing again, and the “how’s school?” followed by, “You doing okay?”. And then there was this awful silence. Finally, he said, “I love you.” That’s when I started to cry. “I love you, too. It’s just…it’s just…um…I think…I think…I, um, think we should…we should…we should, um….break up.” Not my most articulate moment, I’ll agree. But I’ve never broken up with someone before, and the feeling was just as awful as being the one who is getting dumped. I hate that word, “dumped”. Like you’re just tossed in the trash and you never meant anything to that person. Which isn’t true. I do love him, and he means the world to me. We just shouldn’t be together right now.
Here’s the thing about open relationships: they aren’t the normal, everyday relationships people have for a reason. They are a wedge that grows in between two people until they break up. Because if you want to be with someone, than you should be with THEM, not anyone else. Once we decided to make our relationship open we were doomed. And I found myself missing the relationship I had four months ago more and more, and stressing over the one I currently had more and more.
And so we broke up.
I guess it was pretty civil and decent as far as break ups go, he was calm and positive, I was crying and sad (which sort of pissed me off a little, I’ll admit. Why do I always have to be the crying, emotional person?!), and we both agreed to try to be friends and keep in touch. But now that I come to that little minor detail of being pissed off, a bunch of other things are making me mad, too. Like when he said, “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that [breaking up] a lot too.” Why didn’t he say anything?? I thought it was pretty obvious that I was distancing myself, but he didn’t seem to be, so I was kind of surprised. And also when he said, “You know, you’ve got this blog where I can read about the things in your life, but there isn’t anything you can read about what’s going on in my life.” Well what the hell is going on in his life?! Has he been seeing anyone??! Scratch that–I don’t want to know if he’s been seeing anyone. The thought makes me super sick to my stomach, and even though I’d be a huge hypocrite for not wanting him to be with anyone else, I can’t help but think it. I miss him. I miss him a lot. I miss my best friend. And this is going to be hard.
But I am 100% sure this was the right thing to do. He doesn’t deserve a part-time girlfriend, and I’m at a point in my life where I’m not ready for a big commitment. It’s been the best year of my life, being with him, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But life goes on, and if we want to someday build a future together, we will.
So, where does this leave me? In control. For the first time in a long time, it is A-okay for me not to have a clue what my intentions are and what exactly I’m looking for. I am once again the classic version of myself: confused, ready for adventure, searching for life, and finding everything I didn’t expect in the meantime. After all, tomorrow I leave school for Thanksgiving break and who knows what will happen this next week?
What I don’t understand about relationships, about people, is the past tense part. How are you supposed to know? When to end it, when it is truly over, when you’ve had closure, when you’ve moved on? And furthermore, how do you know any of that about the person you are currently with? How do you know when they don’t give a hoot about their ex? But wait, is it possible to even stop caring completely about someone you were in a relationship with? See, there are so many ways to go about thinking these things over…and is the fact that I am even thinking them over something to consider?
My boyfriend’s birthday has recently past, and therefore I’ve been thinking about how glad I am that he exists and such. This is my longest relationship and it’s funny to think how one night turned into talking, which turned into seeing another and dating, which turned into a relationship, which turned into “I love you”. And it all comes from that one night. It feels a lot different than my past relationships. All of those had an awful buildup of insecurity and awkward flirting and confusion caked on top. But…I don’t know…I can’t help but think to myself how different being in love is between the past and now. This relationship I am in now doesn’t fit into “typical relationship” when compared with ever other experience I’ve had. All of that confusion, loneliness, longing never turned up. From the beginning I’ve always felt like we were on the same page, rather than trying to guess at what the other person had going on in their head. What happened–what changed? Did I do something different or was it my choice of people that made it so much easier this time?
It’s not like my first “I love you” boyfriend, Charles, was terrible. He wasn’t. I thought the world of him, and sometimes I really hate the fact that we parted on bad terms. I still absently wonder what he’s up to from time to time, but I’m always left with a sad feeling afterwords. In a way, we relied on each other like the air we breathed–to stop the unbearable loneliness that surrounded our lives wherever we went. When we broke it off (for good) I had someone else I could go to, but he didn’t. For many months afterward, I felt responsible for his sadness, but part of that came from his manipulation. Still, sometimes I get the urge to call him up so we could go on one of our old adventures like the old days, in blind hope that maybe, finally we could just be friends–the real, true type of friends we were meant to be. Then again, maybe we were never meant to be just friends, and so I’ll forget the thought of contacting him in disappointment. Unfortunately, our relationship poisoned our friendship to the point where we always end every conversation in argument.
Don’t you just hate that? I want to go back with Charles, with Landon, go back to the days of when we could stand to be in the same room–heck, even ENJOY each other’s presence. I want to erase the tainted memories, the failure. I want to be friends… Because even if it is wrong, even if it sounds like I don’t appreciate my current relationship (which I do!), I miss them. They were important people in my life, a best friend (though flighty), a new/old friend (though distant) that I spent time with.
I don’t know if they ever think any of this, but I guess it doesn’t matter. There is nothing left to repair.
And that’s the hard truth.