Sometimes, even after many months, you pop into my thoughts. Not exactly unasked-for but you’re not exactly invited either. I’ve spent all this time re-training myself and my habits to forget you.
Not you exactly.
I don’t want to forget you or what we had.
But I do want to forget how important you were to me.
I don’t want to have to think about what you might be doing and who you might be seeing. The life that we had dreamt about, which now goes un-lived. I don’t want to think about all the new experiences you have had, which I am not, and can never be, a part of.
When you pop into my head I find solace in knowing that, contrary to the more negative voices in my head, you are probably having the same problems that you did with me. Only maybe with someone who is less willing to put up with them. I’m not an advocate for demanding someone change, but I’m also not an advocate for standing still in life. For NOT changing, even when the time is right.
Maybe I’m to blame. I supported you unconditionally and then you never did change. I did all the work, which you accepted. But you didn’t give anything back when I needed it.
Maybe you’re alone. Maybe you can sympathise a bit more with how I felt at the end of it all. Helpless and alone.
Maybe you’ve learned something since we ended. I honestly hope so. I honestly do. If you are able to be humble when you fall, take something new, learn something, well that’s the best anyone can hope for.
Maybe you’ve moved right along. The issues that we had, left to simmer under the surface until the next person cracks. I don’t know. I still have your phone number, but we don’t talk.
What I do know is it’s no longer my problem.
I still care for you. Deeply. Without reservations. But care sometimes means letting someone go. Letting them make mistakes and finding their own way. That’s where we’re at now. I will never stop caring about you, and in a real crisis I would always give you food, shelter, and comfort. But I will no longer offer them to you.
The more sinister parts of me hope that you think about what could have been. What you missed out on.
The kinder parts hope that you don’t – that it might make you too sad, and even after all this time I want you to be happy.
I hope you eventually come to be where I am now.
I loved you. We had some great times. We struggled. We had some terrible times. I take the good and the bad. I take them as a human and I resolve to learn and to grow. As time goes on my memories grow softer, and where I used to hurt, I now feel a sense of gentle sadness.
I am ready for my future. Without you. With somebody who can give me back what I need and can accept everything that I give to them.
I just hope you eventually find your way to that place as well.