“Okay, I guess we’ll talk some other time then,” I say, my voice coming across significantly more accepting of the situation than I actually am. I collapse onto my bed before you hang up, and let out an audible inhale as the tears start flowing from the inner corner of my eyes. I hope you did not hear that. I knew it was coming. I suppose one always knows it is coming. I also suppose that ultimately I was the one who chose to end it. But I tried for do long to ignore the signs and pretend everything was okay. I cover my eyes and gasp for air in between my sobs. I do not even remotely care how loud I am crying. Let everyone in the house hear how sad I am. I push my hands harder into my eyes. A sudden wave of nausea engulfs my body. I get up and stumble to the toilet. I gag. Again and again I gag, but the sickness will not leave my body. I have never felt this before.
So now you’d like to talk. Really, if we do talk, what are we supposed to talk about? Am I supposed to tell you how I threw up after we hung up? Or how I haven’t gotten more than 4 hours of sleep every night? Or how I haven’t been able to eat a real meal (which I’m fine with because losing weight is always nice)? Or how I have switched to making lists of things I dislike about you in attempt to convince myself we weren’t meant to be? This is hard for me.
I really felt like you completed me, but unfortunately I couldn’t complete you. And that’s okay. I’m fine with it. No qualms here. I was reading a book the other day and it said, “You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world…but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices.” It reminded me of you. I don’t think you are a bad person. I think you are a really good person, actually. I like my choices even though it didn’t work out.
It’s been a little now, and all of my former musings seem utterly over dramatic. I find it silly how looking back I feel guilty for feeling such pain for something that, in retrospect, was doomed from the start. Nonetheless, I am embarrassed by how sad I was, but I shouldn’t be. It’s okay that I was sad. And it’s okay that I am glad things did not work out. And it’s okay that maybe some days I am the lightest light and the darkest dark.
I think the reality of life is often that you get to the places you were meant to be by things that went wrong.