You Came Back As Soon As I Was Over You

Brooke Cagle

I don’t know what to call something like this.

Cruel timing? Cosmic karma for some act I committed in a previous life? Getting what I wished for long after I’d let that wish die out?

It feels like people have a sixth sense for this kind of thing. Like all our exes, our former flames, the loves we were so desperate for to come back are all in a secret club that we have no knowledge of. They meet the first Monday of every month. There are pie charts and posters tacked to the wall like some scene out of a forensic crime show.

Together, they formulate plans. Things like when to come back, when to text, when to appear after being a ghost for so long. Someone has invented a gadget that notifies them the second we’ve moved on.

Because isn’t that always how it goes?

They only come back when we’re finally over it. 

I don’t know why you did it. Or rather, I don’t know why you waited so long. I spent so many nights bandaging wounds I thought would never heal. I cried and yelled and watched shitty romcoms and yelled at said romcoms for their unrealistic expectations. I traced our history through dusty memories. I searched for some reason I wasn’t enough. For some reason we fell apart instead of fought for each other.

I didn’t get answers. Most of us don’t. Closure is a funny thing. We expect it to come so neatly, to be provided and – BAM – everything is crystal clear. Maybe closure is just acceptance. Maybe it’s just putting something to rest that isn’t serving us anymore.

And that’s what I did. I closed the door. I stitched myself up. Not all at once, but slowly. Bit by bit. And eventually, I realized I wasn’t looking for you. I wasn’t making myself miserable hanging on to an idea. I was just being.

So, naturally, what happens?

You show up. You find the exact moment I’ve moved on and disrupt all the progress I’ve made. You take a sledgehammer to the wall I’ve built and I don’t know whether to be confused or just angry.

I wanted this. I wanted this more than anything.

But you can’t just walk in because you’ve changed your mind. You can’t just waltz in like no destruction was left in your path.

You can’t come back now and act like you never left to begin with. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

About the author

Ari Eastman

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

More From Thought Catalog