How could you do that?
To me or to anyone. How could you just wash your hands clean of an entire chunk of your life that was us? It makes me question what it even was to you. I know you well enough to know that it wasn’t small or insignificant. I know it meant so much, that I meant so much. But it wasn’t enough, was it?
I will never understand how you were able to just walk away. Sure, the fear was there. But you closed up. You stopped letting me in. You didn’t tell me anything… you didn’t tell me how you felt, you didn’t properly explain to me why you did what you did. It’s a good thing I know you. I know you and therefore I was able to accept it in a way that someone who doesn’t know you might not. When other people ask me why it ended and I tell them… they don’t believe it. They say it was something else… a hidden agenda, a commitment thing. Partially maybe but I am the one who knows you, not them. And I do know why you did it… I just don’t really know how.
You were scared and you didn’t feel as though you could handle it. Handle me and what I was asking of you. That it was too much. You couldn’t give me what I wanted and so the quickest and easiest thing to do was to leave. To not be in my life because it would be easier without you. Do you realise that I actually understand that despite how ridiculous that is?
Did it all dawn on you that relationships aren’t quick and easy? That sometimes things get really really difficult and it takes courage and strength and a convicted and deep desire to make things work? The part I find so sad is that I would have done it for you. If I knew there was something that made you unhappy, I would muster up every strength in me to correct it for you. It was all too much at once, wasn’t it? I know that.
I guess we are wired differently. Very differently. So differently that even though there was a spark there, somewhere along the line, we were bound to short circuit.
The worst part is that you were able to run away from it without even facing it. Facing me and my tears and my questions. And look at you now- you’ve never had to face it. All I can do is write and write, streams and streams of paper where tear drops have smudged the ink or splashed the keyboard. You never got to see those tears because you got to escape that. I am not writing this out of contempt, misery or revenge. I am writing it because I know that once it’s all typed out, I will have asked my questions and though the words wouldn’t come out properly if you tried to answer them, I will at least have asked. I can answer most of them myself anyway- not all of them, but most of them. I will have granted myself some kind of justice that you just couldn’t give me at the time. That’s okay though, I forgive you.
The hardest part is accepting that that person is you. I saw such a side to you that made me realise that as long as you are that person and I am this person, we are not two pieces of a puzzle that slot together like I once hoped. It’s a good thing we’re both strong, right? That we never needed each other, we just wanted each other. That we are able to get on with our lives without it dragging us down.
I reckon deep down somewhere I knew something like this would happen. That there was a voice inside my head that I just chose not to listen to because I was too busy laughing and munching on cheesy fries with you.
You are a brilliant person and there is so much about you that I loved. You have a heart of pure gold, and I know you would never ever hurt anyone intentionally. The roots of your actions are anchored in how much you care and love people. You never want to hurt anyone. You are so kind. I still see all those things, and I won’t forget those things either.
I think about you all the time. But I’ve done this before… this whole breakup thing. It isn’t all that new to me and I know it fades with time and we move on to what is right for us. In fact, my positive filter has always been switched on throughout all of this and I am so relieved and happy that this happened now. It kind of all fell together at a perfect time when we were both beginning new chapters of our lives. I am so so happy that I have learnt a little bit more about myself and about what I want. Any opportunity to grow is something I will seize with both hands and an open heart so my cup of tea is most definitely half full. Full, even. Brimming over.
But there are always going to be those moments where it hits you like a ton of bricks and you fall over. And it’s in those times when I fall that I wonder how you did it. I marvel at how you walked away and walked without facing it. Maybe you will face it. Maybe one day. I am patient enough to wait for the shock waves to subside, to move on, to keep seeking happiness internally because I know it doesn’t come from anywhere else.
I want to wish you the best with your life but there is a very small and irrational part of me that wishes, just a little bit, that I could be in it with you. Then the bigger, bolder, truer part of me kicks in and says… hey, sometimes not getting what you want is a wonderful stroke of luck. Actually, I didn’t even say that- the Dalai Lama did and he’s a cool guy, I trust him.
I’m not deeply wounded. My vision is not obscured by a constant stream of hot tears. Sometimes that worries me even more. I worry that I should be more heartbroken than I actually am. But during those moments where it hits me, I know there is nothing more raw and real than that hurt. But when life knocks us down we get back up and get happy. And I am very very good at bouncing back. I am a bounce-back professional and I have handled far worse than this.
Now I hope you know me well enough to know why I wrote this. But I don’t think you’ve ever known or understood me all that well, so I’ll spell it out for you. I wrote this for myself. Not for anyone else. Not even you. In fact, I am largely indifferent as to whether you read it or not. This is my heart and mind speaking and they are my two best friends. They have supported me through this more than anyone on the outside. My support comes from inside. I don’t intend on suppressing them.