I recognize that look way too easily. I know that right now you and I are in the same position. I mean why else would we be at a bar, having a drink that’s probably a little too stiff for 1:30 in the afternoon. And there’s no judgement here, like I said I get it.
The way you’re throwing back those drinks and looking down at your phone, I’m guessing that she packed all her things. So here you are. Trying hard to not feel the pain that’s so obviously haunting you. I’m guessing that when she packed her shit, you tried to stop her but it didn’t work. She was already gone and you had to let her go. I bet that losing her stings more than the Jack you’ve gone from downing to just sipping on.
I’ve seen multiple people like you and I in here before. Every single time I want to ask them what they’re drinking about. The memories are on the edge of your glass and with every sip it’s pretty obvious you’re trying to drown out their noise.
I can tell that you haven’t slept well in weeks just like me. It’s hard when you’re sleeping anywhere than the bed you shared with them. I’ve manage to sleep at friends’ houses, my couch and even my car a time or two because having one too many hasn’t been abnormal lately.
It’s lonely, isn’t it? That right now, being in this bar, surrounded by people, we both actually wish we weren’t here. But being here is better than being at home. Home is where everything starts to close in on you and starts to be completely unbearable. That’s the thing though about heartbreak, it doesn’t just go away when you leave the house. Although I’m sure we both wish it would right now.
It looks like you could use another one, maybe a double and I definitely could too. We could bond over our mutual sadness and hatred of the ones who hurt us. We can talk about anything we want too really. But to be honest, it’s comforting to know that I’m not the only lonely person in this bar.
I hear you tell the bartender everything I thought. I’m no longer wondering what you’re thinking and know that all of my assumptions were right. I listen as you talk about what happened. As you tell everyone around how she ripped your heart out of your chest and told you it was over. Which makes me want to ask the question, if she came back, would you let her?
We’ve all been in that situation. We think about what we’d do if that one person came back to us against all the odds. What happens if that person shows up, asks if they can buy you a drink and how they can fix their worst mistake. Would you let them back in?
Or is it too hard to trust that person again? Should we just move on and be grateful for the time we spent with them and just let it go?
Right now, it’s hard to be grateful for the person who broke your heart but one day maybe it’ll get a little easier. At least that’s what I hope anyways.
So instead of talking to you, I settle up my tab and yours, and leave. Sometimes misery doesn’t need company but hopefully a small gesture can make you feel less alone.