Instead of coming up with ideas to aid my “moving on” phase, I waste my days blankly staring for hours at my awfully banal white ceiling. Crying, tossing and turning in my bed, occasionally replaying the memories I had with him in my head, then end up crying some more. Heck, I even still play those two voicemails he left me. And you know what? I believe I’ve finally reached the point where I’m about to accept that I might have lost my mind because I would find myself talking to him through them.
I’ll never regret meeting him. We met in the most unconventional fashion, yet the easiest way — online. However, he insisted that we tell our families we met in a coffee shop (even though I don’t even drink coffee). But no matter how we met, it was just pure bliss. I fell in love with someone through a phone call, over the pure sincerity and charm of his voice, the life stories and jokes we exchanged for unfiltered laughter. I was convinced that I was getting lucky with this whole gamble in the game called “life.”
I don’t regret knowing him. He’s one of the most colorful beings I’ve ever met. He always told me how inspiring I was with the many life experiences at such a young age. But knowing him has inspired me take that giant leap out of my comfort zone and do the things (both great and stupid) that I’ve only ever imagined doing. Jumping onto tiny rocks in an attempt to get across a river was definitely one of them. Even though the outcome was soggy socks and shoes, being carried around by him all the way back home was all worth it.
I most certainly don’t regret loving him. Even if it happened too quickly. I couldn’t believe it was possible, this whole “love at first sight” nonsense I always hear about. I can’t even recall how many times I would look at him and mentally shout out to the world that I loved him. Before he came into my life, I used to waste my time with people just to burn daylight. I even promised myself that I would stray away from the idea of finding or even wanting anything to do with love; you know, like the movie “No Strings Attached.” After all, I was way too young with too many problems to worry about instead of some boy. But little did I know that my mind couldn’t stop what my idiot heart wanted.
It’s unfortunate that I couldn’t stop it. It was more tragic that I had to go through it. Love was something I protected from giving anyone, or rather, from everyone, including myself. But loving him only proved to myself that I was still capable of feeling love and, hardest of all, giving love.
However, I regret taking him to all those places I have loved the most, the places I’ve always felt the need to keep as my little secret. Now every time I revisit these places, I feel like I am no longer alive in the moment. I’m haunted by the phantom memories of him and of us. He disfigured those once beautiful places for me.
I regret sharing my dreams and aspirations in life. The tudor house I’ve always wanted, cars, vacation spots, and most important to me, my future children. It’s hard to imagine having those things in my life without him. It’s difficult thinking about what life would be like coming home and he’s not the one to be there, or traveling and enjoying the beautiful sights without him by my side, or thinking of what my kids would look like without me breaking down and losing it.
Despite everything, I will never regret the last day I saw him — the day we said goodbye. I remember how rainy and cold it was that night. It was a perfect sad scene that you would have thought had come straight out of the movies. There he was, standing perfectly across from where I was as I stepped out of the train station, emotionless but seemingly unaffected by the situation. It only told me that he went on to sleep fine knowing that he deliberately broke me apart.
I will never take back the words that spilled out of my mouth or the tears I shed that felt endless that day. I remember the agony my heart was feeling when I saw him; loving him hurt. I felt as if I was dying. But dying didn’t seem as bad as the feeling of suffocating deep down inside and begging for help. I wonder if he saw the pain that stained my face or felt my heart fall apart as we had our last embrace.
Love truly is a beautiful thing, but undeniably dangerous; it’s a gamble for sure. I grow more confused about whether people love because they actually do or because the mere idea of it is just mesmerizing. If love in this world and in this life is constantly being afraid of the challenges you face because it’s supposed to be naturally perfect, embracing the downfalls and two people working to grow as one, I refuse to have it. Or rather, this world is no longer the place I want to live in.