I never knew how to properly write this out for clarity. I still don’t. Every time I tried, it got visibly apparent that I do not particularly function well with loss, and it showed in a multitude of ways. My first post became progressively more angry; mostly at myself, and truth be told, at certain points, you. You are entirely blameless in all of this, but I realise my anger at you was a defensive mechanism to deal with it. Pride, if you will.
After the swift deletion of that one, I turned to my second post. And that one, to sum it up briefly, was a downpour of feelings that needed to be discarded. They do say that pain is weakness leaving the body after all. And I was weak, I still am. But that’s for later. If these feelings couldn’t serve its purpose of letting you know how much I valued your existence, then it quickly became toxic. What was the point of feeling these things if I couldn’t share them with you any more? It broke me. And there was no true culprit to blame apart from me. Despite hearing the support of my decision from friends and even family, it’s not enough.
I know what I have done, I have not forgiven myself for it. Despite my reasoning of taking a moral approach to the situation, I’m not as self loathing any more to say I never will, but I can say that I have no idea where to begin on how to forgive myself for it. I have accepted the consequences. Every action has a reaction, and this brings me to my third draft. Hopefully I will get to finish it this time. It’s not something I write with the hopes of you seeing this, but it’s something I write to receive the clarity I will never truly get. And why should I? You deserve to chase your happiness. Why would you listen to the ramblings of a past lover who never moved on 7 months later, despite ending it with you?
It’s strange. Ever since that day, I knew. I knew that the journey after the break up would lead to me taking much longer to move on than you would. That’s not to say it as a criticism; like I said, you deserve to chase your happiness. Call it romanticism, but I did hold on to the words of you declaring to me it will take a hell of a long time for you to move on from me. Not that it made me happy, but I never wanted you to suffer because of me. I think I made the mistake of holding onto those words. It effectively became my mantra.
Every day, I did not sleep, because my mind would relentlessly remind me of what I gave up. This is a woman who genuinely cared, who wasn’t deterred from my rather extroverted weirdness, who never turned away a hug or a kiss because she knew how much I valued her, who did the same thing to me too, even resorting to affection more than I, because we truly loved each other. She, a woman who laboured to bring social justice for all, not for glory or personal accolades, but because of her genuine concern for the well-being of others. I always did say that you completed me whenever there was a chance to hold you in my arms, it made me feel like I finally had a purpose every time you said it back.
Despite it ending, it never felt like the right thing to do, to end it, I mean. But it had to. For the sake of keeping peace, but there was always this feeling in my gut that while it was good for adhering to the moral compass, it was never good for me. It took me a long time to fight against cultural values, six months in fact. But I knew, from the first day up to then, it was you. It was always going to be you. And fuck my inability to act on this sooner, fuck culture, fuck keeping people on side when they never cared at all. So, I opened up to my mother about you. Not in finite detail, but it was a big thing to mention to my mother that I had loved and lost for the sake of keeping peace. I let you go for the sake of keeping peace. I never wanted to potentially be together years down the line only to fall at this hurdle, it was better to trip over it now. For your sake. I never expect you to believe me on that front, but I swear on all the positive memories we shared, it was all for your sake. Everything else added that was jargon; pointless filler to get to you to believe that the relationship was well and truly beyond all scope of redemption.
After sharing it with her, it surprised me to hear that my mother was hurting because I was hurting. And though she wasn’t filled with joy at the sharing of us, she was more supporting of chasing what made me happy, because that would make her happy. You were my happiness. I understand we all have to love ourselves and never let anyone take control of us, but, I don’t care. I could trust you with my happiness. I did. You never broke it. I self-sabotaged. It was weird, to hear my mother say that. I cried shortly after. Seems like ever since I had to walk away, crying has become incredibly easier now. That’s in testament to you, I will always hold you in permanent esteem for that, as you knew how hard it was to do it just the once. It was also strange that the tears were simultaneously caused by happiness and sadness. Happiness because I instantly started dreaming again: trying everything sincere in terms of actions to win you back, because I knew I broke your trust. Then introducing you to my mother with pride, saying how I’m officially happy for the first time in life, as I had someone to love me in my entirety, apart from my own mother. It made me feel that maybe I was lovable after all. I always assumed that mother’s have this unconditional love that would always be there for their child no matter what. Truth be told, though I made fun of you for suggesting we’d have children with wonderful skin tones… I started to believe in it too. It was an idea that grew on me, despite my initial “what the fuck” reaction. The sad side of the tears was a outburst of frustration that I acted too rashly, too swift, making the executive decision without even discussing it with you first. I still haven’t forgiven myself. I’m not entirely sure I want to. But I wanted to make this work despite my failings. I had renewed hope. I would be twice, no, three, no ten times the man you once viewed me to be. I remembered that day, when you said you would not move on so soon, because of the love you had for me. But I was worried immediately after. I was worried that you did move on. But it wasn’t the time to dwell on that. I had to let you know regardless. I did not know then what would have happened. But, I found out soon enough.
It was wonderful to hear you say that you missed talking to me when I reached out. It was bliss to hear your voice, your excitement to want to meet and catch up. It’s very likely I was lost in the moment, but I started dreaming more after that conversation. The whole conversation was most likely very civil, but you never gave the impression that I was a burden contacting you. And for that, I am thankful to you.
But the worst case scenario did actually happen. You were dating again. You wanted to try again, with someone else. It was a sucker punch out of the blue. I think we both knew it once you said it. You asked me how I felt, and irrespective of my wishes to not answer that because I could only regurgitate that you are entitled to live your life the way you wish (I meant that, and I still do), you wanted to know how it made me feel. To this day, I still cannot figure out if you asked that out of concern for my feelings, or if it was asked to provide some sort of riposte for me ending things between us. I do not know, either option was perfectly justified to me. We agreed I needed some time apart, for me to move on. But, it wasn’t going to happen. As you would know, I went to Austria to clear my head a little. Nature always calmed me down and helped me think. And even then, I still thought of you. It wasn’t enough. I couldn’t accept it, I felt like I didn’t fight for us hard enough, so lo and behold, attempt number two happened after a period of time. Long story short for the readers, that didn’t work either, she was actually in a relationship with someone else this time. And frankly, despite writing everything in detail just as much I am nowhere near to writing everything I feel, I still cannot bring myself to write about it.
It’s taken a long time to admit it to myself, but, it’s happened. It made me think of all the other loaded questions that comes with love starvation. When did you move on? Was it immediately after I broke up? How could you lie to me about not moving on when you were aware that I do not lose people from my thoughts so easily?
Before any readers interrupt, I am aware these questions are not justified to think about and comes from a source of unwarranted pride. I never confronted her about this, or have spoken to anyone about this. I respected her wishes. Just go with the thought stream.
Regardless, I have backed off. It’s your life, you deserve your happiness. It’s a hard fact to take to accept that I am not that person that you will share that journey with. I’m sorry that I turned out to be a bad lesson for you, it truly was never my intention. But know this, I will always support you. It’s been a genuine privilege walking by your side as your former lover. I’m glad you understood that I need to retreat and lick my wounds for now. I trust in you stating that you want to remain in contact after I get through this, though we are both evidently aware that it will not be for a long time. I must recover for me, just as you went through the journey realising that your life goes on. I must do the same thing, irrespective of what my head and heart tells me. I do not want to be toxic to you, and I do not want to be toxic to myself any more.
I did not write this for you to ever see it (and a little relieved you never will) but I’m glad I had the chance to get some of my thoughts out for once. It’s been pent up for quite a while. I have every faith that you will thrive, you are meant to provide change to the world. I’ve always felt this. As the old adage goes, if you love someone, you got to let them go, right?
This will be the last time I will ever mention you, on here, to anyone, to myself. I’ll always have that pang of wondering how you are. But I will not even consider speaking to you, for both our sakes. I just sincerely hope that once I have repaired myself, no, improved, that we can communicate and have a real friendship.
Patience is the key, for me, for you, in life working out the way it will for the both of us. I’m a firm believer of everything happens for a reason. I’m not the best of people who devotes himself to God despite my faith, but I still hope, I really hope God lets us meet again to benefit each other in a mutual and respectful friendship.
My feelings must change into something else, this kind of love I have now, it needs to go and for the first time, probably helped by typing this, I wholeheartedly accept this. I realise that it benefits nobody. I just have to go through the motions I guess. I hope that things in your new relationship are still going well, and if not, that you do find someone who devotes themselves to you the way you deserve to be.
I can accept that it might not happen, but I do hope friendship can be salvaged. I love you, and trust that you continue to take control of your life and accept nothing less than success in whatever you chase. I hope to see you on the other side once this is all done with. I really do.