I recently ended one relationship, it did not last a long time but it was intensive and promising from the very beginning.
You know that aggravating feeling when your friends are encouraging you during single phase telling you to just wait, he/she will show up when you least expect it. I hate that phrase so much, but it did happen, it was unexpected and it gave me that old hope. Until then I had those hopes somewhere locked, until then I promised myself I will never be this hopeless stupid that stays until 4 a.m. to drawn her cries in music and dark.
Well, is it really a surprise being back to that sucking hole of disappointments and disillusions, from time to time, from one to another person.
What bothers me most is not that this guy did not love me back, as he said he did, as he acted as he did, but the fact that he is one of many of those who are slowly but constantly crashing down my ideas, my enthusiasm, my love, my optimism for great romance.
The truth is, the one that no one dares to talk but all know, love happens to some but it does not happen to all of us. I am sure you all know those who lived lonely lives, some relatives or neighbors, remembered them as grey shadow somewhere from childhood.
We ignore the fact that not all had that big love and were loved as it does not fit in this all-consuming and all selling logic of universe being a wish-granting factory we keep on so popularly pushing forward. I am also starting to rethink that extensively quoted idea that ”what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” yes, you know you can survive but in the process I am certain there is something pure that we lose.
Anyway, when I am listening, watching, reading anything that causes this exhausting reflection on my own love life and indeed we have a plenty of material to never stop, I don’t know what face has the man in my story.
Sometimes it is my first love that I never forgot and never will. I am convinced that no love that comes after will ever be as charming or as naïve as this one. Sometimes he has the face of my last boyfriend and sometimes I am mixing all this familiar faces to create a new one. Such reflections brought me to one particular though, uneasy feeling of terribly missing someone and I don’t even know who.
Do I miss myself, do I miss that naïve girl who stood late at night on balcony taking to the Moon about him or do I miss some of this men who never stick long enough, do I just miss the idea I once had in my head? I am not sure who or what I miss, but I am certain that something fragile, easy and gullible is not part of me anymore. I may not be so different from my old self, just with thicker skin and million doubts.
I am 26 now and that hole I mentioned, it’s a place that I try to visit very rarely nowadays. Not because I don’t have a reason or reasons but because I know it does nothing for me and I learned and learning to have compassion for myself.
I am sure you are all missing some parts of yourself, some people, some feelings but don’t let the pain itself seduces you to indulge in it and hurt yourself again.
I know that feeling how pleasingly plays with you in a way that your own destruction seems so appealing and intoxicating. That missing I talked about is just one more form of that sweet late night seduction that leaves you lost in self-pity. No, it is a road that you should not walk to often but at the same time the one you cannot avoid. It is human and it is right.
Missing someone or something is the most alive reminder of that indestructible idea that may hide but never leaves you, to give yourself that what you once dreamed of. I may regain what I now believe to be lost somewhere or I may not but I am sure that despite my reluctant doses of gloominess I will aim on giving that once upon a time girl the love she asked for long time ago.