If You Ever Wonder Why I Left, Read This

One part of what I told you was true: I left for my own happiness. You weren’t making me that unhappy, to be honest, but I knew in my heart that no matter how much I loved you, I would have ended up shattered if we had upgraded from friends to an almost relationship, as you wanted to. I could only have succeeded in some sort of life-committed relationship with someone I was so fond of. I wasn’t wired for anything less than that. And even a committed relationship would have been hard anyway.

Because you are not excited by all the things that excite me. We didn’t want the same things in life and already didn’t live the same way: I want to be all over the place and I am. You couldn’t have lived in my pace and I couldn’t have complied to yours without feeling like I was losing myself. You don’t wish to explore as must as you can and don’t seem to see the responsibility for making the most of all the possibilities of happiness that everyone doesn’t have the chance to have – and that one may someday lose. You didn’t seem to want to invest your strength in being the most luminous person you can, and I struggle to respect that.

I left you because you even lacked the courage to face anyone and didn’t seem to plan to. I couldn’t stay when courage and honesty were the two values I was holding the most dearly in my heart – just next to intelligence.

I left because I finally realized that having one of the greatest intellectual and spiritual connection of my life wasn’t enough. Nor was the physical attraction. I left because I realized that these were my only reason to want you when I had thousands of others not to.

It is okay I didn’t find you perfect. It was even a great thing. But not being able to offer you what I felt I had to offer you wasn’t. Not feeling like you wanted my gifts wasn’t – and bringing you light was one of them…

After all, maybe that I was only looking for the validation that being loved by a man who seemed to despise nearly everything and everyone would be. Like if I must have been really good for such a difficult person to like me – good to the level convincing enough I could stop doubting myself.

But I started loving myself before you showed romantic interest. And maybe it was partly why you started showing it.

And surely, it was why I was capable of leaving anyway.

And I left because I knew in my guts since the beginning you could never fully be in love with me. And if it was ok as friends, it was not as lovers.

And I knew in my guts that one day, you might have called me out for all the things I ever did wrong without you getting angry, and that I couldn’t support it without breaking apart. But I couldn’t just stay friends with you either because it would have asked me more strength than just leaving, and I didn’t have it. I am a sucker when it comes to temptation.

I left because I couldn’t see how it could have become healthy between us, and I was even wondering if I was abusive or may become so.

But I still miss you. Sure, I miss you less and less so the more other aspects of myself grow and hence make the part of me that still love you small in comparison. But these last days, I cried for your loss and thought about you, realizing that, unless a twist of fate happened, we parted ways forever. I might never hear your voice again outside of my memories.
I cried because the flow state where your mind and your words were making me be was the most compelling and ecstatic feeling I can recall. It is the feeling that instantly calm me and bring me peace, so much so that I used to think about it when trying to sleep. All the things you made me feel were impregnated with grace and sublime, maybe similarly to the effect heroin is said to have.

I sometimes think I could have let myself being stuck in this state forever, hypnotized by you, and let my life pass through my fingers. Then, I wouldn’t have regretted it and died happy, escaping from all the struggles of everyday life.

I lived fairy tale love and it was one of the best things that ever happened to me. Meeting you was too. You turned my soul into poetry.

But the last reason why I left is that I didn’t want a love of this kind anymore, a love based on my imagination. Now, I want something based on the multiplicity of happy moments shared. I wanted the bond, the familiarity and the trust which came from time and the easiness with which someone could make us smile. I guess I trust too much my ability to make a fresco out of my life to sacrifice it to watch you, paralyzed by fascination, for the rest of it. I will try to keep you in my heart and memory like a treasure, but not like a treasure I am overwhelmed by and robbed of any control on, letting me dependent and victimized.

Because one day, I would like to say “I love you” without feeling under drug influence.