One Four Zero

I haven’t written about him in a long time. Mostly because I’ve had other things, other people on my mind, because my life has been filled in other ways- not because I haven’t thought about him.

Truth is, I still think about him most days, and not just once or twice. I still wonder what he’s doing, where he is, who he shares his life with now. I thought I wouldn’t anymore, especially now that I have O in my life. But I do. And I want to stop but I don’t know how or when or why I can’t. The thoughts manifest into dreams and I can’t escape him even in my sleep. I like to think that I think about him less as more time passes but honestly, I don’t know that it is. That scares me. How much longer will this failed love haunt me?

I believe that we carry all the tenses of our being, that all the past versions of who we were shape the who we are. Maybe it’s that the past versions of who we were roll into who we are now, that they’re intrinsically woven together. The girl who had her heartbroken is so familiar to me still, it’s hard to differentiate what was then and what is now. I can still draw up the pain of rejection and unrequited love and feel it keenly. Certain songs will instantly knock me back to that place of brokenness and hopelessness.

The one thing that I keep coming back to is knowing that I did all that I could. I said everything I wanted to say and that’s all you can ever do. There will be people who don’t reciprocate the way you feel and that’s life. But I will never have to regret not saying enough. If there’s any regret, it’ll be on him.

Some months ago, I couldn’t fathom a life that didn’t perpetually mourn the loss of him. Now I can recognise that the loss is an event in the past and while my present self can remember what that awful time was like, I’m not currently experiencing that loss at the moment. I’ve been reading The Body Keeps the Score and learning that we need to integrate painful past experiences into our present so that we can live freer futures. So that’s progress right? I’m part of the way there! One day I won’t think of him anymore, in the same way that I don’t think about my first boyfriend. I’m not there yet but I will be, one day.

Ninety Four

I’ve started seeing a new boy. It’s still really early days (we’ve only hung out three times so far) but today, for the first time since J, I thought to myself – yeah, I can do this again.

I’m a little excited, but mostly scared and apprehensive. With heartbreak comes wariness which can almost generate a self-fulfilling prophecy for rejection. I’m afraid of being heartbroken again so I find that I’m more reserved than I normally am, or was. I think that by controlling which parts I hold back, and which parts I slowly release, I can control my emotions and feelings, that I can protect my heart. But I also know that in doing this, I’m not giving O a good chance to know me, which is what I desire in the first place. I want to be known, and I miss being known, but the last guy who knew me, didn’t want me. I’m scared of that happening again.

Fifteen

everytime i close my eyes

all i see is you and her

her and you

hands held

looking at each other

laughing

talking

do you dream together

the same dreams we had?

do you hope together

the same hopes we had?

are you scared of pain with her?

or only with me?

because what we had was too real

you had to run away

or were you a coward

too scared to tell me how you really felt

if you didn’t want me then you should have just fucking said so.

i’m not that precious

i’m not that fragile

i am me

i have always been me

and i will always be me

without you

my life will keep rolling on

i will find love again

but better this time

with someone who isn’t scared

with someone who is committed to me

with someone who will make me laugh

with someone who will hold me when i cry

with someone who will make me a better person

with someone who will stay

Fourteen

Today I saw him holding hands with another girl. I think he saw me too because they were about to cross the road but then changed directions.

There are no words for it. I feel sad and rejected and inadequate and small and lonely. But those just scratch the surface. My insides feel so contracted and I feel like I need to let it out somehow but I’m just completely paralysed too.

I really thought that if he was coming back here, that he would come back to me. But he hasn’t come back to me.

I feel so stupid and such an idiot for thinking that I was someone different, someone special to him.

But I need to remind myself that even if I was just another number to him, I’m not dispensable.

I am different.

I am special.

Fuck him for being selfish and running away from commitment.

Fuck him for telling me he had a dream about me and then asking to catch up.

Fuck him for being a coward and not being upfront in his communication.

I’ve unfriended him on Facebook and unfollowed him on Instagram, and removed his following on my Instagram. I need to cut him out of my life.

I’m thankful for friends who I can cry with, who will join me in screaming into the wind at the beach, who will remind me that I will have someone better than him in my future. I will. I will. I will.

Thirteen

Rejection is hard to stomach. It’s amazing how a long string of goodness can be so easily unravelled by a few seconds of an Instagram story.

This week has been good, really good. Each day I feel more hopeful and more joyful but then today I saw on Instagram that he was still here, just choosing to not be here, with me.

you’re everywhere except right here and it hurts – rupi kaur

I want to make excuses for him – for why he chose to not do long distance, for why he didn’t reply to my last message. But these aren’t excuses for him, they’re for me. I’m desperately clinging on to this whisper of the past, wanting to believe a better version of him. I’ve got my hands covering my eyes, and even when I force myself to take them away, my eyes are stubbornly shut, refusing to see things as they are. Sometimes I wonder if my eyelids open, if there will be anything there or if I will have gauged my eyes out. Sometimes reality is so painful that I would rather be blind.

Rejection is hard to stomach. Especially when it’s not communicated. If he doesn’t want to see me, then why didn’t he just reply saying so? Surely I deserve the time for a reply?

Fuck him.