Those feelings I had managed for the last few years were slowly starting to swirl in the pit of my stomach again. I was starting to feel the pain that came along missing him. I heard his name slip into more of my conversations lately. The name I swore I’d never say again. The name that made me mistrust everyone and see my own worth as something close to nothing.
It wasn’t that he was ever callous but I was never enough. And I find that in every relationship I get into after him.
I get lost in my head often and believe in fantasy that things work out even if they were doomed at the start. And it was doomed from the start. But I was too young, too dumb to appreciate the signs that were so high and so red.
I just wish he was here. He was around. He was encouraging me to chase my dreams again. I have a lot of people who encourage me but his was just that little bit extra. The thing that I needed to hear in my weakest moments. Maybe that’s why in those moments he’s the one I go back too. The one I crave to fix my broken. He was the calm to my storm and in some ways he always will be.
As soon as I know I’m going down the same reckless path again, the one that leaves me feeling empty, I know that I’m relapsing. I don’t love him. I don’t need him. I don’t want him. I don’t. Except that I do. I do need him because when I met him I didn’t know how to be without him after that exact moment. But as the years have gone on I’ve been able to push him down. I have been able to come out of this clean and sober.
When my friends ask I tell them there’s no way I’m still hung up on him. But of course I am. Maybe that’s why when they ask me about why I can’t be serious with anyone I shrug it off like I just haven’t met anyone I really want to. But that’s not true. Of course it’s not true. I had met the person I wanted to be serious with but he wasn’t available anymore. He wasn’t available to me anymore.
I almost believe that I’ve met someone better. But that’s far from it. I’ve met other people to occupy my time. And that’s not to belittle the people I’ve been with since him. That’s the sad truth that I can’t let these men in as deeply as I let him in.
Because when he left, he shattered me. He completely crushed me. And if he wanted me back I don’t think I could say no. Because I couldn’t lose him twice. But that’s the fantasy. The fantasy that one day we’ll be back to where we were. We’ll be back to being us.
I don’t have to have him anymore. I don’t. I’ve got this being alone thing down pat. And when I need a warm body to remind me that I’m not completely alone I have that too.
Though at this point we really don’t know each other anymore. The only pieces I know about you now are the ones I get from snippets of conversations. Conversations I strike up when I’m feeling brave and wanting to know if he’s happy. Of course he is. He found his purpose without me. And going back to the feelings of when we were happy together doesn’t hurt anyone. Anyone but me.
My faith is that love isn’t just a onetime deal. And if it is, I hope it circles back around and picks me this time.