Things I Should Have Said To My Ex

iulia Pironea
iulia Pironea

I fell in love with you the night we danced on that hill. I sobbed in my mother’s arms when you took me home and she went on the defense, ready to tear you apart for hurting me. And I had to explain my tears. That you didn’t hurt me. But it was the moment I realized you had the power, the meaning in my life, that you could. And it was the scariest thing I’d ever felt.

Even your stupid sweat smelled good.

I didn’t realize this was a possibility. But I would bury my face in your armpits, taking all of you in. After hikes or fucking, you still were the kind of thing I wanted surrounding me. Saturating me. We were a combustion of chemicals in the best way. We were high school textbooks. We were tenderness and pushing me against the door. We were sweat that smelled good.

instagram / arieastman
instagram / arieastman

That night you called me drunk in college split me down the middle. It was the year of my turbulence, of my broken pieces finding a way back together – not even a result of you, but things you still don’t know about. Things I’m not ready for most people to know about. But you called and unraveled me even more. I was tectonic plates shifting. You were the 9.0 Quake I wasn’t ready for. The butterflies that sprang forth when I saw your name appear on my phone got slaughtered as we continued. I shouldn’t have answered.

I wish I never answered.

I cried in front of all three of my roommates. You don’t know that. But that call still haunts me sometimes.

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In Hawaii, I rode a horse with your name. I flinched each time the instructor said it.

The night you got stranded in Los Angeles so I picked you up from the airport and took you back to my dorm, I stayed awake the entire night. I wonder if you were too.

That night on the golf course is one of my favorite memories. To this day. I hear Jupiter Love and it rushes back. I become goosebumps and shooting neurons. Shooting stars. You were all I could see the whole night. You were my constellation.

Thank you for all the talks.

I was so mad at you when you went to Paris. I ignored Skype calls. It was selfish. And I was disconnected. I’m not sure if things would be different if we’d had the summer together.

I’m not sure of most things. But I was sure about us. Then. At one point.

Losing you was like losing an arm, even if I was the one who called for amputation.

I still have phantom limbs trying to find you in the night. Thought Catalog Logo Mark


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Ari Eastman

✨ real(ly not) chill. poet. writer. mental health activist. mama shark. ✨

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