Sometimes I want to call you. Sometimes I want to hear your voice. I want to hear the noises in the background where you are and listen to what you hear vividly on the other side of the line.
I want to hear your laugh; that laugh that made me laugh even more and loose my cool like a complete fool. I want us to chat about our fears and demons, our ins and outs, all the things we hide. Sometimes, I want to be back in that space, that place where I thought you knew me like no one else ever could, that place where even when there were storms and thunders I never imagined the end. The end. How funny to think about it like that now. It’s ironic to think of us like something that’s over, like a closed chapter, a door that has been shut.
Sometimes I want to call you. I pick up the phone and head to my ‘favourites’ where you’re name still lies, but as I’m about to press your name I decide it’s not worth it. I’m not sure you’re worth all the trouble that would come after I dial your number.
Will it be like the last time? The last time I let you into my head again just to be left with nothing again. Will it be like the time before that? Or the one prior?
Each time I come knocking on your door, you never push me away. You never tell me you’re better off alone. You never say you need space. Each time I come knocking on your door you open them and let me in. You welcome me and tell me how much you miss me too. You blame distance and ‘adulting’ for our seeming disconnect and say you wish we weren’t apart. You join me in reminiscing about the past and the highlights from our glory days. You reel me in with your voice and kind words. You reel me in with the essence of who you are. Then it’s back to square one. Back to the beginning.
I begin to remember why we lost touch, why we lost the magic. I begin to recall all the times when I felt like I was in the relationship all by myself. I begin to remember how I was doing all the heavy lifting.
You’d then become less curious about me. No follow up questions to ask and no time to spare, and eventually, no real excuses to give for your absence. That’s exactly the person you always become in the end and I know I can no longer come up with reasons to justify that anymore.
Sometimes I want to call you, but I won’t. I’ve resisted the urge for this long and I won’t give in anytime soon. I won’t call because I already know the drill, I know what the end looks like because we’ve filmed it over and over again.
I won’t call because you feed me bread crumbs, you give me the easiest part of yourself you can give away and you don’t even look back to see if I actually took it. I won’t call because I’m well aware I’m a big part of the past we’ll never get back, a part you’ll never want back. I’ll never have the ‘old’ you and you’ll never be completely comfortable with the ‘new’ me.
Maybe you hesitate to call too. Maybe you stare at our old photos in regret and sadness. Maybe you still wonder what we could have become in the long run. Maybe you miss me too. Maybe you miss me more. Maybe the distance is too big for us and it’s exactly what we can’t seem to get over. Maybe it really is the mountain between us both. Maybe not.
Sometimes I want to call you, but I won’t. This is not 2010 and I guess I don’t know who you are anymore, and you don’t know me either. I have to come to terms with the fact that the past is in the past and we may never find it… ever again.
I won’t call you because I know better now.