“You’ve got that power over me; my my. Everything I hold dear resides in those eyes.”
I don’t feel good tonight; I’m at a bit of a loss. A relationship just ended. Not your typical relationship, but that’s kind of what made it special. It was something only I knew about, and it was with one of the few people I’ve let get that near to me in years. I didn’t even realise it was remotely close to a “relationship” until tonight, but as I sit here with that inexplicably warm but empty feeling in my stomach, it’s occurred to me that that’s more or less exactly what it was.
I’ve always had a strange relationship with love. It’s something I often think about, rarely chase, nurture frequently when given the chance, and let go without question when it’s time for that person to leave. I loved this person, and they loved me. I think what made the relationship special was that we both loved each other in a way that we were unable to love ourselves; we were proxies for our own self-love.
When I say I let go easily, I’m being somewhat misleading. What I mean is that I let the person go without fighting for them; it’s rare that I easily let the real estate they inhabit in my brain go. When I think about the last real relationship I was in, I start to wonder what she’s doing, where she is, and if she’s happy. I wondered why I did this for a long time, until about 2 weeks ago. We broke up less than a month before I was attacked; I never devoted any time to closing that chapter of my life with her. I went straight into recovery mode following the attack, and didn’t have the energy or capacity to let 2 years of my life with somebody else go in a healthy way. Instead, I mourned, smoked and became more and more ill.
Do I expect the same to happen with this person? No. I’ll spend some time wishing they were still there and that we were the same people we were when we first began talking, but, ultimately, I’ll have to do what I always do – bury it and move on. Or bury it, at least.
To be clear, what I always miss most is the friendship. The time spent coming up with names for each other, helping each other heal and watching life go by for the two of us. I always felt like I had that companion when that person was around. As these things tend to though, time and life take over and you soon realise that one or both of you have changed completely in the period between the start and the finish. You began the race as part of a team, and now you end it separately. Figuring out who changed, and why, is pointless; it alters nothing and leaves you attempting to solve a puzzle that nobody else cares to look at. Beyond this, beyond us, I've been wanting write about losing people for a while. Letting go isn't easy, but more often than not, it's necessary. It doesn't make what you had a failure, it just makes it over. Relegated to the past.
I’ll leave it with this, since I don’t know whether you’ll be reading it or not. I love you, and I’m proud of you. I worry about you, but I’ll be here in 10 days time, and I’ll be here on that date next year and the year after. We were something, but I don’t know what. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for all the messages and the phone calls; and all the pointless yet wonderfully comforting emails. Thank you for letting me have a window into your life that nobody else got to look through. Lastly, thank you for being somebody that I loved almost as soon as I knew you.
As I write, you just asked me what happened to us and all I can think to say is this:
Nothing happened to us. You just reached a point where you became so low that reaching out became too hard to do. You filled that hole with whoever was nearby and I slowly became an option you didn’t need anymore, and that’s okay. There’s still a huge chunk of my heart in your hands, because we spoke a language that nobody else did; but if this is goodbye, make sure it’s only goodbye for me. You made the same promise I made, and you need to stick around.
I love you, I miss you, and I thank you.
Fuck me, I need a cigarette.