I ended it.
It was a long time coming and a lot of factors weighed in. “It’s complicated.” We spent the last few months in love, knowing it was coming to an end soon. Squeezing in every last bit of time together. You said every single thing I needed to hear, four months too late. “It’s not goodbye, it’s see you later.” Maybe one day we’ll find each other again when we both are ready. I thought that was a lie when I said it. The logical side of me, to this day, knows that I made the right decision. The logical side of me knows that you (still) have a lot of growing up to do and you weren’t ready.
The logical side of me knows that I’m better off; that I’ve become a better, stronger woman having made my decision.
The other side? Still dreams about you almost every single night.
Three years later, and you’re still just as present in my dreams as you once were in my life.
Sometimes the dreams are uneventful, boring even. Much like we became when we were together. They’re comfortable, familiar. Sometimes the dreams are full of love. We’re getting back together, we’re happy again. You’re back in your rightful place at the center of my universe. Sometimes the dreams are gut-wrenching. You hurt me again. You cheat again. You fail to meet my expectations again. History repeats itself.
They’ve become so constant that I don’t wake myself up in a panic attack full of tears anymore. So constant that I don’t wake up with a smile on my face, only to be slapped with reality. So constant that I’ve grown numb to the heartache and disappointment of realizing that it was just a dream.
It was just a dream and you’re no longer apart of my life.