When He Let Go

You go to your regular café and order your regular cup of coffee, everything seems normal except that it’s not cause today he decided to let you go.

He starts talking and you’re listening with full attention what you know beforehand already but still you want to hear it coming out of his own mouth. He talks and tells you how his feelings have changed and how he doesn’t see what you have the way he did before and how about you stay friends instead? And all you have in mind is fuck that, I don’t want to be friends with you, I want you, all of you. I want our midnight calls and silly jokes, I want to be your one and I want us with all what we are.

But you swallow up your tears, smile then say sure, we will always be friends. He smiles back then says this lame excuse about the thing he has you know well it doesn’t exist, tells you he’ll call to get his things then leaves.

And here you are, sitting in your regular café with your regular cup of coffee in your hands but the tears filling up your eyes are making sure they’re proof enough that nothing about this day really is regular. You keep sitting there may be staring at the ceiling or just at the table where you were sitting at the last time you were here.

You remember it all, the first date, the first kiss, the laughs and the not so often tears. Then you also start remembering when did it all start, when did he start pulling away like he was protecting himself from you hurting him as if you could if you even tried!

And the many days when you asked what’s wrong and tried to believe his “don’t worry, everything is okay “

You calm down then leave the place, call your best friend and tell her everything then you find her at your doorstep after work with your favorite flavor of ice-cream, box of not so happy cupcakes and couple of romantic movies that will allow you to let it all out until you fall asleep on the couch.

Next day he calls, you get excited more than you should thinking maybe he realized how wrong this is then you act calm and pick up the phone but no, he only wants to pick his stuff. You tell him it’s okay, he comes and you watch him stuffing things up in a box and you’re still having hope, still thinking he’ll regret what he said and change his mind. You see, that’s why hope is dangerous, it helps us raise the bar of expectations then allowing our disappointments to slowly kill us. And again, out of the door he leaves.

Days pass and you gradually stop going to that café thinking maybe he’ll come when he misses you, you stop waiting for his call and checking your phone for a text once you wake-up every day. Day by day dreams get less and his name is spoken less. Even the smell of his perfume is now gone, you try to remember it, but it’s over. He is gone.

You let it go, delete his number out of your phone, unfollow him everywhere and stop passing by that street of your once go-to café. You are less hurt now and deep down; you know it will all be okay.