Well I’m jumping ahead here about one thousand pages but um. I sorta have to.
I didn’t cry.
I thought of as many reasons as I could, of how mean you were to me. How I’d never been treated so poorly in any relationship in all my time.
Till the very last drop I let myself believe I deserved it. That because I screwed up, it was okay. I have never been in an emotional abusive relationship. I never even understood them. But now? I have as much experience as a 400 acre hay field has hay.
Even after all my positive explaining. The reality in my soul of how I wanted us to work together and BELIEVED we could and laid out a plan and format we could use. The time it would take . ‘You can’t expect to trust me overnight, and I can’t expect you to. ‘
‘I’m not capable of being with you’, you said, ‘ I just wanted you around so that noone else could have you’.
For six months.
I still love you. I’m not over any of this. I will profusely be shoving out any thoughts of you, of any of our existence. Until I can do so without sobbing. I still love you.
You don’t deserve me. And I will say that over and over in my head each day for however long it takes.
I haven’t cried.
I still love you.
I am not weak. I am strong and fighting. Tomorrow I will be out running my legs, crunching my stomach, pushing pushing pushing.
I will get through this, and so will you best friend, so will you.
I’m writing less and thinking less, but not wanting less of you. I’m doing more and being more, but wanting more to be with you. I enjoy life and like life, because I’ve convinced myself I need to but really I’ve convinced me that convincing you,
I made pulled chicken today. I told you I was going to come by to drop some off around a certain time if it was okay with you.
You were outside with doggy and a cup of coffee still in your work clothes
waiting for me.
I hugged you, you were partial.
You smiled your shy smile
and your body language was like
you didn’t want me to be there
but your smile, I know that smile
it said otherwise.
The day before I was sitting on your lap our arms intertwined
while you fell asleep and I listened to you snore.
What can I expect. This position sucks and I can’t ask too much from it.
I’m believing in love for the first time since I’ve ever thought more than 23 seconds about it.
Because I have to.
That doesn’t exactly sound right does it.
He says he loves me
and I believe in my love for him.
But HIS love, is going to be the dictator of what happens with us.
So after all my misunderstandings and denials and ‘ I love yous’ when I wasn’t committed, well yeah,
it makes this the ultimate love by far.
Even though I believed in others love for me before, this means the most because this is the person that knows me the most.
Others saw and loved what they were given. And it wasn’t all of me.
So all in all I’m saying that love is only at it’s truest most bestest, when you know that person knows all of you and they still want to be around you and tell you they love you. That’s the stuff you can believe in.
I’ve been in the disease of missing before. Living away from the country and people and love that was around me, things that had become giant parts of me over the years. Yeah, it’s easy to feel disconnect when you’re not surrounded by the familiars of you.
And then you’re in the city you grew up in and after experiencing that miss, it seems more severe, more hurtful and in a way…pathetic.
I’ve established that it is miss but a different miss, a different longing. And all the capabilities and potential you have around you, is what makes it stronger. You get into that whirlpool of feeling sorry for yourself and that just makes you miss ‘happy you’ even more. So now you’re not only missing what you started out missing, but the absence of feeling stable.
As powerful as homesickness can be, when you have all the tools, the language and the same culture at your hands’ existence yet only feel that one thing can fix it, you’ve kind of got it even more backwards.
I just fricken miss you and your 8 minutes away and you miss me too and I’m trying not to wait but I know I am. For you to say, ” Yeah, what are we doing. I want to be with you, I want to be with you no matter what has happened in the past. “
I know you miss me because after two days of zero contact, my phone dings at 7:08 am and it says Geeze I miss you.
Late at night I dance with beer sloshing out of my bottle
and straws flicking out of my thin, bending cup.
I’m busy on my phone
collecting up all the people I dropped in the past year.
I’m meeting people left right and center, going to the movies and having dinner by the lake.
You think I’m doing that
and not laying on the basement carpet staring at the water stains on the ceiling.
You think I’m blasting through this like it’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done
but I’m here
I’m flipping right here
in the square middle of my bed under my covers with new tears running over the dried tears
with no desire to see or talk to any soul but you.
I saw you a week ago. But it feels more like a month.
Sunday night I texted you around eight saying I hope you had a good weekend and that your foot was okay. You replied a few minutes later with question marks. It brought me straight away to a sad place. And as soon as it did I made motion to get out of it.
I fought away from that place with a little bit of anger and… it worked. I apoligized and kept doing what I was doing before I texted you.
Next thing I know, my phone jingles and a few jumbles of texts roll in.
‘ just cone iva and say i’m an idoit. ‘
I stare at the screen.
I don’t know what to put.
So I put nothing.
And 2 minutes later, the phone is jingling for longer and you are calling and I pick up and my theory is correct. You have been drinking.
You’d like for me to come over. “We can make nachos “, you say.
Because you know that’s one of my favourite eats. And when you realize you don’t have nachos you say, ‘but hey, the store does!’ and I say ‘ its Sunday silly’.
And then, ” Let’s have chips and dip! I have some!”
And you do and I don’t.
Because I am unable to come over. I would. If I could.
We talk for 21 minutes and I go through waves of sadness- at the stuff you’re saying, your tone. And I’m trying to build muscle in the process of the conversation so that I have enough strength to push it off of me and you can sense it and inside whirls the mass of
” I’ll be okay without this. ”
Being talked down to doesn’t feel that great. Specially when it’s done purposefully indirectly. Specially when you’ve changed and are changing and don’t need to hear negative things that happened in the past. What makes it even sadder is the fact that I know you know this. And I know you know you shouldn’t be like this.
I love you, my soulmate.
Get yourself figured out so I can show you the best me there ever was.