Thursday, April 30th, will mark two weeks of not speaking to my ex. We tried remaining friends, but it became this watered down version of still being in a relationship. I’ve been gone now for almost three months, but I was, and still am, holding on to this version of us in my head. For one week straight, I just couldn’t wrapped my mind around the break-up. I was hurting all over again and I couldn’t understand why. We had normal text conversations. Joking. Teasing. We talked about what went on during our day and what was going on in our minds. We shared advice. We continued to share dreams. Then, I realized, I was the only one bringing up things about our relationship. I would ask him questions I had asked a hundred times before. I told him I was looking for closure and asked that we speak on the phone once. We did. I spoke. I cried. I asked. I cried a bit more. Even after trying to release him, I still couldn’t understand it. If we disagreed on something, we were back to arguing as if we were still in the relationship, finger pointing, him getting defensive and me being self-righteous.
I told him I couldn’t talk to him anymore, because if we were to remain friends, it wasn’t going to happen right now. I was still seeing him as the person I was in love with and as the person who had failed me. I didn’t feel as though I had the strength to stop talking to him, so I asked that he never reply if I happened to slip up. I waited for the type bubble to pop up. It took him a moment, but he replied, “…yea.” I told him to promise. He said he’d respect what ever needed to be done.
In that moment, I felt a kick to my chest. My heart seemed to beat a bit stronger and I began to find it hard to swallow. The hurt seemed to multiply. It felt as if he had been waiting for me to walk away all along. I had just given him what he wanted. I thought to myself, no wonder why he kept himself at a distance. No wonder he continued to lie to me. Was he piling on more mistakes in order to push me beyond my breaking point? Was that the only way he knew how to get rid of me? Hearing him say, “I want to talk you back every day, but I don’t. I’m trying to make this work” felt like a slap in the face. You’re trying hard to make our friendship work? What happened to our relationship? Was it that easy for him? He had already began to move on and there I was, still hurt, even after being the one who said “enough”.
After venturing onto Twitter, I came across a few break-up meme’s about how different astrological signs deal with break-ups. Being that I’m a Libra, the mystical meme said I am usually devastated after a breakup. Being that my ex is a Scorpio, he’s fine after a week. I laughed, trying to be light-hearted about what I had just read, but proceeded in annoyance, thinking “how true”.
Bad. All bad.
Angry. I’m still angry. I’m pissed. I’m reliving the past six years over and over again in my head and he’s living life. I’m blogging in order to reshape this devastation and he’s planning his life. Whispers keep telling me he never cared, never will care. He stopped loving you. He doesn’t even want you. He doesn’t desire you. He wants her and her and them. He knew what he was doing. It was all premeditated. He’s respecting your decisions because now he can move on properly, how he’s been wanting to move on; without you around. He’s making you do all the work. You’re great at doing all the work. You’re sulking and he’s soaking up the sun. Don’t kid yourself, he was over you the moment you drove away.
Bad. All bad.
It’s easy for me to sulk. It’s easy for me to see the past for what it was and for what I wanted it to be.
I still see the past for what I wanted it to be.
I get hung up on the disappointments, the assumptions and the anger. I sometimes feel as if I’m only lingering because I’m waiting for him to be my knight in black armor, on a black horse, who will take us back to a tree house kingdom he built with his bare hands (let me dream, thanks). It makes me angry to think that maybe he never wanted to save me. I’m angry that I have to save myself. I feel like I’m always saving myself.
And rather than continue the practice of finding joy in what’s to come, today I don’t want to. I’m pissed and I don’t want to think about how I’m going to fulfill the gaps in my life, my heart, and my mind. Why couldn’t they have already been fulfilled? What the hell have I been doing with my life up until this point?
Just like that. All in one moment, I toss forgiveness out the window and I’m back to feeling the crushing weight of defeat. I’m back to playing the home movies within my mind, trying to map out the mistakes of our relationship like a hybrid google earth feature. I see the wrong. I see the right. I wanted more right. Crazy thing is, I know there was more wrong than right, but still I want more right.
Why couldn’t it have been right?