Well, readers,
My ex just made it official with another girl. More specifically, he made it official with the girl he flirted with the entire time I was away, the same girl with which he quite possibly cheated. Less than a month ago, we were making love, and now look at us. I keep seeing things that remind me of him and push them all away, out of my memory, out of my conscious thought. I want to remove myself from that life, from that girl I was, the girl he turned me into. I never want to be that dependent, blind, desperate, longing girl again, yet I wish I could still be the carefree, thoughtful, hopeful girl he made me at the same time.
He taught me so much about love. He showed me what it means to be selfish, and therefore, how to avoid being self-absorbed. I learned through his mistakes that love requires sacrifice, and that that sacrifice is what makes you whole-heartedly trust one another and give into a unity and bond. He also made me realize that it’s important to pause, reflect on the relationship, and communicate the problems rather than keeping them pent up inside. Our relationship broke down because he was unwilling to yield to my needs while simultaneously avoiding the conflict. From him, I learned that I cannot give into the person I love when that person is constantly hurting me, controlling me, and forcing me to forgo my happiness to keep him content. I have to be strong on my own if the person I want to be with is pulling me down like an anchor.
I thank him for these lessons, even though he has yet to reach out to me. He hasn’t said anything, given any signs of regret, or heartache, or the loneliness when you’re next to someone new whose body shape is unfamiliar, or the longing you feel just to relive that one moment over again. I must accept that he will never showcase those feelings, that instead he will occupy his time kissing her. He’ll forget the way I feel and the sound of my voice as fast as this nostalgia stirs each night as I lie awake in bed. I can’t help but wonder if she’s better for him in the long run, if she’ll do all the things I failed to do, say all the things I kept inside, laugh at all the jokes he made, and never tease him like I did. I hope she does; I really do. Yet there’s some small part of me that wishes, maybe even prays, that when he’s lying in bed, he has trouble falling asleep, for he can’t help but wonder how I am, who I’m with, and if anyone will ever make my heart beat as fast as he did.
