When it comes to you

11 Nov

I want nothing more than to move on. To forget your face. To forget the way I stopped breathing for a second when you finally — after four years of waiting, FINALLY — held my hand. Forget your voice on my phone and every time you told me you’d wait forever and that stupid grin when I was at your door.

And I hate myself for it. I hate that I believed you every time you said “I love you” and I hate that I would pick up the phone if you called me this second, and I’d just be so happy to be talking to you again. I hate that it’s been 5 and a half years and I still remember my confusion and a little bit of happiness when you wrote on my Facebook wall that first time, back before chat even existed. If I had known then what I know now, I never would have responded. I would have just kept you one of those acquaintances from the school bus that I scroll past on social media, vaguely pleased to see their lives have turned out well. 

Instead I’ve blocked you, and then deleted you, hoping that doing so in the digital sphere would help get you out of my head. Of course, it doesn’t work that way. Instead I just think about you all the time.

I’m still trying to decide if I want to see you next time I’m at home. You’re with her now — I still don’t understand how you started dating her a week after saying you couldn’t imagine ending up with anyone but me. But that’s just how life is. I want to ask you, “Was any of it real?” “Do you ever miss me?” “Am I going to go through this again – this pain of you dating someone and ignoring me for months and then sending a casual, “how’s life?” text that turns into weeks of emotional rollercoaster as we imagine a future together that you back out of?” Because that’s happened too many times.

I’ve gotten over you before. And then you’ve come back, and begged for me, and I’ve given in. It happened in 2009. 2011. 2012. Heck, this spring. So how can I ever believe you’re really gone? I don’t know that I’ll believe it for years. Maybe it’ll take me falling in love with someone else and finally letting you fade away. Maybe it’ll take you getting married to someone that isn’t me.

I know that these feelings for you are stopping me from being able to have a healthy relationship with anyone who isn’t you. I know that the chances of us ever getting another shot are getting smaller by the day. Yet I still imagine you putting your arms around me again and finally feeling like I’m where I ought to be.

If anyone else I knew hung on to someone like this, I would tell them they were deluded, they were bringing this pain on themselves, that obviously he’s not worth it. But it’s you. And when it comes to you, I can’t seem to really let go. 

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