Here I am on a chilly Saturday evening. The weather has certainly changed and I can already smell and feel the crisp autumn air. As the seasons changed, I have finally started to move on.
Has it almost been three months? Time surely flies by so fast that it seemed like everything now is a blur. I guess I’m healing nicely. I don’t cringe or wince anymore just thinking how it all went down the drain. Like what Hope has written, all that’s left is the sweet, sweet sadness of almost. How I almost got him. How he almost got me. Wait, he did get me. How we almost got it right. Almost, but not quite. Close, but no cigar.
We stood by the edge of the precipice, held hands even, stared down into the unknown…. but unlike Hope, instead of closing our eyes and taking that giant leap together, he let go of my hand as I jumped. I saw him at the edge, watching me fall into that giant abyss of nothingness.
Maybe walking away is the safest thing to do. We’re better off, right? We’re better off walking away knowing that in the end, it’ll never work out. Better now than later, when we’re both thick in the middle of it.
Was it then naught for nothing?
Not everything has fallen by the wayside. There were plenty of reasons why we should’ve stayed together. But sadly, there were a lot more reasons why we said goodbye instead. It’s hard to fight for something when it was doomed to fail even in the beginning. Carpe diem, right? That’s the thing with expectations, it’s just a setup for disappointments.
We both still need a lot of growing up to do. They were right — fools rush in. And like the fool that I was, I was even willing to sacrifice all that I am. I fell for him for the wrong reasons and I tried desperately to make things work out for all the wrong reasons. Even when in the end, all that was left in me were doubts.
He told me that I deserve to be with somebody who really wanted to be with me. Problem was, I wanted it to be HIM.
I think that that was the most cruel and most selfish thing one could ever probably say. And how ” plus one” is the loneliest number. What an utter, total rejection. Oh, aside from the classic, ” It’s me, not you” when what it really meant was it was really you. Was I that jaded??????
Like I said, I still have a lot of growing up to do. I still have a lot of figuring out to do. But one thing is for certain, I’ve come to realize that I am better off. That indeed, it’s him and not me. That I don’t need a relationship to define who or what I am anymore.
And if he wanted me back? Ask me that same question a couple months ago and I would’ve said, “Yes!” a million times over. But now? Honestly? I don’t know. Would I really subject myself through all of that all over again? The not knowing where I stand, the uncertainty? What I do know is that unless and until we both sort out our own personal issues, we can never be. Not unless we both learn to trust. No assumptions. I’ve accepted that.
And if someday our paths cross again? Who knows, we might even exchange a hello or two.
In a way, having your heart broken is having a myocardial infarction. It can be life threatening, depending where the infarct and how extensive the damage is. And what you need is time. Time to heal. So after almost three months status post, I am finally there. Almost. Not quite, but getting there.
xoxo
