Sometimes I get these waves of panic when I realize that you are NEVER going to be in my life again. So, I let myself go looking for you. I knew there was no way you were in town, but somehow it felt good to look. It felt good to give in to the longing of my idiot, achy break heart and realize that the person I was longing for.. wasn’t there. He doesn’t exist anymore.
I visited all our haunts, allowing myself to actively search for you. I walked around the restaurant we’d hit between classes. I circled the benches where we would do homework. I even peeked in the music rooms you would practice your music in. There are a lot of music rooms.
You weren’t there.
Know what I did find? The restaurant I used to go with my best friend to laugh our faces off over smoothies and nachos coated in plastic cheese. The benches I would conduct interviews for the newspaper. The music rooms where I would pour my soul into twangy chords of dusty pianos. They were all there. Instead of painful memories of you and me, I found each haunt coated with happy memories of times long before you. You aren’t there anymore. I am. I’m still here, I’m still alive and kicking. I let you into my world, but that doesn’t make it your world. You aren’t here anymore.
Today my efforts to move on with my life consisted of repeating, “It’s over,” whenever thoughts of my ex popped into my mind. Let’s call him Voldemort (not because he’s capable of leading a campaign of death and evil against muggles, but because I really want to write about my relationship/engagement/break up with Lord Voldemort) I actually got pretty into my new trick on my way to work…belting some variation of “It’s OOOOVVEEERRR!!!” to every song that came on.
I admit to having a little bounce in my step as I walked into work, cheerfully singing “Living on a Prayer,” or rather…”We are so-oo over.”
When I opened up my work email, the first message I saw was from a co-worker who just happened to be named Voldy McVoldersin.
"It’s OVER!" I yelled automatically. I had been getting into my new routine so this wasn’t any timid sort of mutter and everyone whipped around in their swivel chairs to see what was up with the new girl.
As I muttered something about being excited about finishing an assignment, I couldn’t help but high five my brain for stopping at nothing to make sure the world knew that it is over.
It wasn’t right. It was familiar, comfortable, but never right. I wore your ring on my finger, but couldn’t imagine adding another one to it. I couldn’t marry you. It was not right. So why is the fact that you care about someone else so painfully, unbelievably, unacceptably wrong?
I keep waiting for things to settle down, for order to resume, but the second law of thermodynamics states that ensuing entropy either remains at its current level, or continues to increase. So, when you’re an isolated system, the chaos just keeps coming…and coming..and coming. So, good for you for unisolating yourself so quickly.
As for me, I’m just an isolated, swirling vortex of growth, change, pain, ecstasy, freedom, confusion, strength, joy, defeat, anger, leaps forward and slides backward, random facts about thermodynamics, hope, terror, resentment, fulfillment, despair, vigor…
I look forward to the time when every single love song doesn’t make me throw up in my mouth a little.
Want to know a secret?
For all my pain, confusion and loneliness, I called it off. I was the one who ended things again and again. I was the one who cried after trying on wedding dresses, who absolutely dreaded thinking about her wedding day, who never had a sense of excitement or even peace over the thought of marrying him. I loved him, but felt stuck. I don’t even know if I was completely in love with HIM…or simply the idea of him, the idea of love, of him loving me, of him needing me. It’s nice to be loved, wanted, needed.
In the end, I was simply so desperate for someone to love me, regardless of how I felt about them. No wonder he leapt into the arms of another woman so quickly. Being truly wanted is wonderful.
I confess that my days are sometimes filled with relief that it’s over.
If he hurt me, I hurt him more. But he’s moved on. And I’m the one who is still broken.
You know how I used to tease you about being a pine tree? Just out of curiosity, did you ever pine over me?
That's not a question I think you get to ask. Sorry.