Closure was all I ever needed, something I didn’t have for the longest time. I needed to know that I wouldn’t regret the decision I was going to make, the decision to let it all go once and for all, to cut the rope that holds the anchor and let the ship sail. It’s silly, isn’t it? To hold on to something that’s long gone. I know it may seem absurd or out of the blue but I’ve been drowning with my demons for far too long when I should’ve been drowning them instead.
In his arms, was a sense of familiarity that I could recognize in a split second, it was a feeling that no one could ever take away from me. His eyes were searching for something in mine, but I was far too afraid to look into his, afraid that I might give it all away – the things in which I’ve hidden so well. How do you look at someone you thought was the one and not feel the slightest pinch of your heart at the harsh reality you’re in, that he isn’t? I felt so much, more than I’ve ever felt before and I had forgotten what it felt like to be overwhelmed with so much emotion, so much love and ultimately, the very thing I was so numb to – pain.
As much as we’ve grown apart, we’ve grown out of the silly melancholic teens we used to be and I’m so glad that we’ve grown out of that phase in our lives. Gone are the days where we both bawled our eyes out in front of each other, showing up at the lobby of my apartment or the front gate of his house at 6 in the morning just to prove that we were meant to be, that the odds were in our favor. But if we really were meant to be, why did we have to try so hard?
The marks we left were often scars. If these scars were visible, I’d be so badly bruised and so would he. So I guess the question is, why do we choose to get hurt? Why do we always run back to the person who broke us in the first place?
My world used to revolve around this beautiful boy, someone whom I thought was the epitome of forever, someone whom I deemed ‘the one’. I cared so much more for him than I ever did care for myself. I loved him more than I should have loved myself and in that, I lost myself. I was so convinced that all I ever needed to do was to love him with everything I had to offer, it didn’t matter if I didn’t love myself. But I’ve come to realize that it matters, it matters so much. My self-esteem depended on a boy; it depended on how much he loved me.
The things I regret the most aren’t the things that I’ve done but the things I was far too afraid to do. I opened my mouth, almost said something. Almost. The rest of my life might have turned out differently if I had. But I didn’t.
I found myself with a foot above the line, so ready to cross it but I never had the guts to, and maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe it’s a blessing that I didn’t.
I’ve been homesick for a long time, for a place that doesn’t even exist anymore. Maybe in another life, I’ll run into him and I’ll be older, smarter and just plain better than I’ll ever be in this life. Maybe then, I’ll be able to look at him without choking up or feeling my heart break all over again like the very first time you said goodbye. But now, at this moment, I know where it’ll take me; I know how things will play out. I know now that we’re not meant to be, perhaps we were never meant to be but we tried, oh, we really did try so hard to go against the odds. It took me years to come to my senses and to realize that he was the poison in my veins.
So this is me, realizing that the best thing he’s ever done for me all these years was to let me go when I begged him to stay. This is me, ending this constant nightmare of being delusional. This is me, giving myself the closure I never got; the closure he refused to give me. This is me, finally letting the memory of him go.
This is me, saying goodbye for the very last time.