“I think we need some space,” you say on a late November day.
But what does that really mean? Do we go our separate ways the moment the words are said and pretend that nothing ever happened, we never existed? You usher me out of your life: leaving me on seen, not looking at my snaps, ignoring every desperate sign I’ve been showing to get your attention, your love again.
Are you torturing me for my mistake?
This is what it’s really like taking some space apart from you. I wake up every morning with this guilt that I had done something terrible wrong. It takes me forever to fall asleep, over analyzing and rereading every conversation we’ve ever had to see what went wrong. Every night, I dial the same digits to your name because I want to hear your voice. I’m forgetting what you sound like, but every time I make it to the last number, I just don’t have the guts to press the red button. Do you think of me, dream of me at all? Do you still care?
I’ll try to occupy my time, to fill my schedule with distractions, but somehow they all remind me of you. I’ll see a meme on Facebook and want to tag you. When I actually tag you, you don’t see it at all. You’re so obvious at avoiding me it hurts so much. Someone at work will say something that is also your favourite song, or a new Netflix show will come out and I’ll want to binge watch with you, but I can’t. I’ll go out and take new Instagram pictures, to gloat at how much better I am doing without you, but you swipe right through them. You are so good at this, at protecting yourself, and even as time does its natural job at erasing you, I still feel like I’m so attracted, that I regret leaving these words and my feelings unsaid. The space between us fade to nothing when it comes to us.
I don’t think we need some space. I think we need to talk; I think I made a mistake.
Because taking this space is killing me, and I’m a fool for thinking I could breathe with this space between us, this empty void that’s doing nothing for us.
Can we try again?