I just burnt a bridge last week.
It was tough for me to do. My friend told me I should have done that a year ago. That a year ago he was wondering why I can’t just let go, and now he’s proud that I gathered the required courage for me to do it. I guess, I just needed a little anger to push myself to do it. To delete everything… and by everything, I meant all of the things that serve as a proof that “we” existed. Not just we… but all the things that will validate that we actually knew each other. It’s like Hermione casting a spell to her parents when she was about to join Harry to look for the Horcruxes.
I did it. I felt great. I won’t go into details about how or what those things are, but if you’re gonna ask, I’d just tell you to look that up or search it for yourself because you won’t really spot any connection that will conclude that we really existed. That we actually knew each other, period. In short, I am crystal clear. It’s like I murdered someone and hid all the evidence and I am a suspect who is lurking around as if everyone’s so sure that I didn’t do it.
I did it for myself. Not for you. For a year I was doing you a favor. It was all for you. I always thought that you ended up things because you think it’s better if we could just free ourselves from each other so we could grow. That I would benefit from that growth because I needed that more than you do. Because you knew better than me. Because in us, you’re the one who’s smarter than our emotions, and I had to surrender that decision to you because I never had that strength to break the ties.
I lived for a year thinking that you ended it because you wanted to be the one who would be strong for us. That you were stronger than this. That you were the bigger person. You knew I was weak enough to decide, but strong enough to hold on. You didn’t talk to me for seven months. And for those seven months, I was trying to work it out. I did what I could to get the best talk out of you but you never ever gave me a response that we could actually talk about it again. But by that time, I didn’t care anymore about working it out because I knew we were hopeless and it would require a lot of work to see some spark again. I was just badly wishing for a chance to talk, begging a closure so I could finally move on. I wanted closure because I had to know that you don’t want me anymore.
I needed to hear it out loud.
I wanted you to hurt me with your words because it would be much easier for me to cut it loose. I wanted you to approve my view of how negative we were not just thru texts but by seeing your presence just so I could feel that we really were not something anymore. But… any of these, I got nothing. Even a reply. You just told me to shut up. I wanted you to do that because I couldn’t do it myself. I couldn’t unwant you on my own, I wanted it to come from you. Although it would really hurt, those acts would convince me that there was really no point anymore. That’s the problem with hope… you couldn’t just shake it off. You would need that person to turn it around for you.
My hopes were that bad. Despite everything, all those times he shut the door on me, I was still thinking that he wanted to return all my messages, my calls, my attempts, but he just chose not to because he thought it would be best if I could see him as the bad guy. That in a way like that, he thought I could move on much easier. That talking to me would make him fold, and his point of being apart for our growth wouldn’t make sense anymore since he might not resist coming back to me once we see each other again. I spent all the year with a thought of, “He did it not because he wanted to, but because he was thinking it would be the best for me.” I would think that every bad thing he did, is for my sake. That even though it was painful to be ignored like that — with all the best effort and all — I still see the good cause behind his cold response.
But boy, was I wrong.
Just recently I realized that no, he didn’t do it for me. He didn’t choose to be regarded as the bad guy on purpose. He was just a jerk who chose to ignore me, and live a new life without me… without saying goodbye to someone he used to love. He never bothered at all. He didn’t decide to leave me because he wanted me to grow or be a better person, he did it because he didn’t want me anymore. He never bothered explaining because he just didn’t care anymore. It is that simple. He wanted to live a life without me on it, and just forget that we existed. Of course I had all these thoughts before, but I shook it off because I am someone who would still choose to see the good in people no matter how bad they look or do. What’s more is it for him? I just can’t stomach the thought of me throwing bad assumptions to the one I love the most.
For a year I’ve been living with regrets. I was blaming myself for why we failed. I always think that my immaturity, impatience, and bratty attitude were the factors why our ship sank. It was all on me that I thought, if I could alter all of these we could still make it. I assumed the time given when we were apart were the time for me to fix myself. Which holds true, because I did fix myself, only did I do it with a hope of him going back… But then now I’m into that thinking that there shouldn’t be any blame to point a finger on me. That even though I was all that immature and bratty, it wasn’t my fault. It was his fault not to accept me for who I am. It was his failure not to give me a chance to fix myself, or help me adjust while I was working on it. I couldn’t do it alone… the changing. If two people are together and someone has to change for the relationship to work, they should work together, help each other with all the adjustment of that changing requires. It’s hard to change something you used to live up with, but it’s possible. But what’s not possible is doing it alone. You cannot do it alone because you’re changing for something, and yet, this something doesn’t do anything to help you cope up with it. It wasn’t my fault. It was his flaw to give up easily with all the sacrifices we had to make. I was willing and he wasn’t, and that shouldn’t be my problem anymore. And even then that we were not together anymore, it wasn’t me who didn’t try making it work again. I did try. I gave my best. And I fought real hard to save everything. But fighting isn’t something if you’re the only one performing in the arena. Where is the match? Where is the war? It seemed like I was ready to win a war that wasn’t there in the first place.
Of course there is still pain.
Like a lot. A fucking lot.
Because while you’re moving on, facing all the pain on your own… there was he, starting a life without you on it. That while you’re moving on, with a little hope that there could still be you and him, there he was not even thinking about the idea of you and him, or just even you. It hurts so much to accept that you have to figure out everything on your own while you’re in pain. That he could not help you put it into pieces, the fact that he was the one who brought you there. It hurts that you wish you could give him a say as to what and how he should behave while you’re there trying to be happy but just couldn’t… while you’re there keeping yourself together from a storm that is not that just easy to get away from. It hurts that you are still hoping but there he was hoping and wishing you could finally move forward. Although you want to move forward so bad, you don’t really want to, because the idea of you forgetting him and stop caring for him would seem so unimaginable. Your love is so big you can’t imagine yourself that one day, you just stop loving the person. But then, there he was, not loving you the same. And you want to be mad but it just hurt not to have the right to be mad at him for not loving you like he used to. That it’s all about you right now, and there’s nothing you could do to stop him from doing everything he wants after you and him. It’s hard to love a jerk. But the funny part is, to have loved a jerk makes all the man change for the better because the next jerk that will come into your life, would do whatever it takes for you to welcome him to your life. But would you risk that again? Fuck no. Fuck them. Because at the end of the day, it is still our choice.
It sure did hurt, and some part still does. I wish that a big swoosh would come and take it all away but I have come to know that that’s the thing about moving on. Some pain is left and it will always be there. It will make you angry that a part of it is still there — still hurting — but there is no point. I could be angry at him for not even saying sorry, and sure up until now, deep inside I am still waiting to hear it… but it didn’t come, and maybe I won’t ever hear that from him. Because maybe he wasn’t really sorry about hurting me. I still have a lot of questions, but I gave up forcing to get the answers.
Maybe that’s what moving on is… accepting that you can’t know everything. That it’s better to feel the pain rather than know why. It’s always going to hurt, and it will always be a fresh wound every time you would come back to that memory, but one thing is for sure… You may never upturn a painful situation, but the way it affects you will change.