What Happens When I Stop Missing You?

It’s been nearly two weeks since you sent me a message, even longer since I last heard your voice. And I miss you, god do I miss you. You’re still my first thought when I wake up and my last thought before I go to sleep. There are still moments when I am half asleep and reach over to your side of the bed half expecting you to be lying there next to me, and sadness and disappointment fills my heart when I realise you’re not. My heart aches for you, just as it always has; maybe it always will. Maybe you’ll always be a part of me.
I wish I could reach out, call you, hear your voice. I could, but I’m scared it will hurt. I’m scared that you will say something that will break me, or worse, make me miss you more.
I hope that someday I’ll stop counting the days since we last spoke. I hope that I’ll wake up in the morning and it will take hours before I even think of you. I hope that days will pass without your name being mumbled from my lips. I hope that someday I’ll be happy without you.
Without you. Even just saying that hurts. The idea of a life without you scares me more than the idea of missing you forever. Missing you is familiar, I know how it feels, I know how it hurts. But not having you? Forgetting you? That’s what scares me. The idea that we are taught to let go and move on from people who meant the world to us confuses me. You were my world, and maybe that was the problem. I loved you more than anyone, even myself. In loving you, I lost myself, and I’m still trying to find myself again: the person I was before you. Someone told me once that if I was happy before you, I would be able to be happy again after you. But it’s not that simple. It doesn’t work that way. I can’t just erase you. I can’t forget the way you made me feel. These are things I’ll carry around with me forever. I think these are things that I want to carry around forever; I don’t want to forget you or erase you. I just want to stop missing you. But if I stop missing you… then what?

I Would Tell You

Here’s what I would tell you:
– That you fucked up. That you made a mistake when you walked away from us.
– That you’re a coward. You gave up on us because you were too scared and you didn’t try hard enough.
– That you’re selfish. You only think about yourself and you only care about yourself.
– That you’re mean. That you say things that you know will hurt me, but you do it anyway. You’re thoughtless.
– That you avoid things. That you run away and don’t address things. You turn your back on people when it gets difficult.
– You’re an addict. Many times throughout our relationship you chose alcohol and drugs over spending time with me. You have a problem. But you enjoy it too much to admit it.
– That you don’t deserve me. Not for a minute. Not at all. That I’m way too nice to you. I forgive you, for it all, for everything. And that I hate myself for it.
– That I hate myself for loving you. For not being strong enough to walk away. For making excuses for you. For missing you. For wanting someone like you.
– That you will never find someone like me. Someone who loves you unconditionally. No matter what. Always. Someone who was always there for you.
– That one day it will hit you. All of it. And it will hurt. And I hope it does. I hope it tears you apart and brings you to your knees.
– You’ll realise what you lost and what you gave up. And you will hate yourself. You will hate yourself for not fighting for the one person who always fought for you.
– You’ll miss me. You’ll want me back. You’ll regret all of it. You’ll realise that the lifestyle you wanted wasn’t worth losing the one person who loved you.
– That it will be too late. I will be long gone. You will just be a man I once loved. The man I used to kiss in photos. Your name will never leave my lips and your face will never enter my dreams.
– My dreams and my future will be filled with someone new. Someone better. Someone who realised I was the girl worth fighting for.

Empty

There are so many things I would tell you. So many things I would say. But you took my voice away. You made me scared to talk; scared that it would make you leave; scared that if I wanted “too much” you would leave me behind. But I don’t want too much. I never did. I just want you.

I want the talks we used to have. I miss the love we used to share. I don’t want to be your friend, your booty call, your this. I don’t know if I want this. I tell myself I do, because the alternative, of not having you all seems so much harder. Do you love me? Do you still care? How many of the words that slip off your sweet tongue are just used to get in my bed? What goes through your mind when you see our old photos? How do they make you feel? They make me feel sad. I miss the people in those photos. I miss those smiles. I miss the man I fell in love with.

You look like him; the man in our photos. But inside you’re gone. You’re the shell of a man I once loved. And I hold onto you because you remind me of him, and sometimes when we’re alone, you even act like him. You say things he used to say. And it makes me feel like that girl again. The girl in the photo. The one who got lost the day you gave up and walked away. The one that I’m still trying to find.

There are a lot of things I would say to you if we could talk freely. If I wasn’t scared. I’m not really sure what I’m scared of: you walking away, or hearing what you might have to say. I’ve given you everything. Everything I have and more. And you’ve given me nothing, and yet here I stand loving you. The man you once were gave me the world; he gave me his all. But you’re just his shell. Empty. With nothing to give. I know you’re lost. And I know you’re not ready. But what a thing to learn now. What a thing to discover after tasting all you have to offer.

I know you miss me. I can hear it in your voice. In the way you say my name. But you’re a shell. And slowly, I feel you making me more like you. More… empty.
We sit next to each other, as shells of who we use to be. And our relationship, a shell of what it once was. Empty.

Friends… ?

Oh, you want to talk because we are friends? That’s funny. You were always good at making me laugh. That’s great for you that you think we’re friends. Splendid really. However, I have news for you. Friends don’t think of you as a sexual object. Friends don’t sext you at 3 in the morning after weeks of not talking. Friends don’t use you. Friends don’t take advantage of you. Friends care. All the time. Not just when they are free, and not just when they feel like it. They care, always. Friends don’t invite you to their hotel room when they are in a relationship. Friends don’t cheat on their girlfriends with you. Friends don’t treat you like you are disposable. Friends don’t get to choose when to be your friend. Friends check up on you when you are in pain. Friends don’t tell you that they’re there for you no matter what and then back out at the first opportunity. Friends are there for you during the good times, and the bad. Friends don’t hurt you. Friends don’t try to hurt you. Friends love.

You don’t know what it means to be a friend. You don’t know what it means to act like a friend. You wouldn’t know what friendship was if it came and hit you in the face. You, my dear, are not my friend.

If We Were Friends

We have never met, and I doubt we ever will. However, not knowing you has never stopped me from having imaginary conversations with you, or from thinking about what you must be like. I used to envy you. I used to be jealous of you. I used to want nothing more than to be you. To be the one that he loved. Not anymore.

In this moment, I don’t know if my heart aches more for myself, or for you. See, I get to leave him behind, and I get to move on. I get to find someone who will love me, and who won’t fault me for caring. I get to find someone who will be there to hold onto during the tears, instead of being the one who caused them. I’ll get to find someone who loves me, and only want me. Someone who will fall in love with me, with all my flaws and my edges; someone who won’t want to change me. My heart aches for you because you won’t get that. My heart aches for you because even though I don’t know you, and even though we’re not friends, you deserve better. We all do. If we were friends I would tell you to run. I would tell you to slam the door and leave him and all of his shit behind. You don’t deserve someone who will invite another girl to your apartment when you’re not there. You don’t deserve someone who says he loves you but doesn’t know what the definition of love is. You don’t deserve someone who is searching for lust elsewhere the moment you turn your back. You deserve to know true happiness. You might think that that’s what this is. You might think that looking into his eyes there is no truer vision of the future. You’re probably so excited to move in with him and start your lives together. From now until forever. Forever. Today is the beginning of the rest of your life. And my heart aches for you if you choose to spend it with him. But oh how easy it is to fall for him. I should know.

I hope you are a strong woman. If not, you’ll be forced to grow into one. Because one day, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next year, maybe not five years from now, but one day, he will break you. I hope this day does not come. And I hope that he changes. But I know he won’t. He’ll think he has. He’ll think that he finally knows what it means to be in love. He already thinks he does. But he doesn’t. He wants to love you. He wants to believe that he is the man for you. And he truly does believe that you are the woman for him. He thinks you’re too smart for him, and he’s probably right. It’s funny isn’t it? How you can be so intelligent and yet so naïve?

I hope that one day he truly starts loving you. I hope that he can be the prince, the one you dreamt about when you were a little girl. I hope that he can sweep you off your feet on his white horse, and that it is magical, because we all deserve a little magic in our lives. But if this doesn’t happen. And if he causes you pain, I hope more than anything that you learn to walk away. That you learn that he doesn’t deserve a second chance, and certainly not a third or a fourth, or however many you will want to give him. He’ll beg and he’ll plead, he might even cry. I hope you have the strength and the courage to slowly walk away. But if we were friends, I would tell you to run.

A Letter To The Love Of My Life

I hope this letter finds you well, and that you are happy, because you deserve all the happiness in the world. Can you believe it’s been six years since we met? Six years since the first time I looked into your eyes? Six years since we said goodbye for the first time. It hurts when you have to leave someone, the way I had to leave you. When despite how much you want to be with someone, despite how much you love them, you have to say goodbye. When I tapped on your shoulder all those years ago and asked you to join me and my friends for drinks, I never could have predicted the impact you would have on my life. I never could have predicted the emotions you would make me feel, or that happiness you would bring. I never could have predicted that saying goodbye to you would be the hardest thing I would have to do. And I never could have predicted that I would have had to do it more than once. It started as summer fling, something that neither of us would have put any serious thought into. But the more I knew about you, the more I wanted to know. As I spent more time with you, all I could think about was the time that I wouldn’t be able to in the future. The more you held me, the more I wanted to be held. And sooner or later, I fell in love with you. I fell so hard I didn’t even realise it. I didn’t realise the way your name brought a smile to my face, or how my days passed thinking about you. At the end of that first summer when I said goodbye to you and flew thousands of miles away, I learned what it meant to have your heart broken. I understood the feeling of being lost and empty, and losing something you never really got to have. For the next five summers after that, we had what people would call a “summer romance” but it was never that simple, how could it be? You’re not supposed to fall in love with your summer romance, but I did. I fell in love with you and I never stopped. Boyfriends came and went, but my thoughts still drifted to you. I even thought about moving countries to be with you, but I was young and naïve and scared; I still am.

I was always scared to tell you how I felt, because at times I didn’t see the point, I always knew that it was going to end with goodbye. I didn’t tell you how much I loved you until it was too late. I haven’t told you that I feel more myself with you than with anyone else. I never told you that I love the way I feel when I’m with you, I love the person that I am. I never told you how much happiness you bring me when we’re together, or about the sadness when we’re apart. I never told you that when I have your hand in mine I would do anything not to let go. I dream about taking you with me. I dream about having you to come home to at night. I dream about sleeping in your arms and waking up to your face. I dream about being able to turn our “summer romance” into something real. Because I know it’s something worth fighting for. I care about you so much that there’s almost nothing I wouldn’t do for you, short of up and moving my entire life to where you are, because we’re still young, and I’m too ambitious.

I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. I wish you could see the amazing man that you have become. I’ve been lucky enough to watch you grow over the past six years, and you should be proud of who you are. We’ve had our ups and downs, and we’ve had months where we haven’t spoken. But we haven’t had to. We don’t have to speak for me to know how much I love you. I know I love you by the way my heart aches for you. By the way the tears fall down my face when I think about the fact that I can’t be with you.

You’re the kind of man I want to end up with. The kind of man who is kind and caring, but strong and independent. The kind of man who I can always turn to when I need some help. The kind of man who will always love me, no matter what. The kind of man who won’t judge me for my flaws, but will help me overcome them. I hope you find someone who loves you. I hope she loves the way you brood. I hope she appreciates you, and cares for you, the way I know you will care about her. I hope she looks forward to seeing you after a long day. I hope she makes you want to be a better man. I hope you have a love so strong that you forget about all the negativity in the world. I hope that she is the woman of your dreams. I hope that you are happy. I hope that one day you find someone who can love you the way I do.

Take care of yourself.

Yours always,

M

Wine After Whiskey

“Once you’ve tasted a love that strong you can’t go back and you can’t settle on anything less, and that’s what gets me. It’s like having wine after whiskey.”

It’s rare to find a relationship full of passion. A relationship with love so strong. And when the end of this kind of relationship comes, it can be terrifying. Not only have you just lost the person that means most to you, but there’s also the fear that you may never find a relationship like this one ever again. You’re scared that every relationship to follow will just be a let down. You tell yourself that you won’t compare your future relationships to this one, but you know you will. Every time you think you start to feel something for someone, you’ll compare it to the way you felt about him, and it won’t be enough. Every action, every thought, every feeling, will be compared, and they’ll never be strong enough, they’ll never be deep enough. You can’t go back to before you had this feeling. You can’t forget what you have felt. You can’t forget the moments that you shared and the memories that you made. You can’t pretend that they never existed. You can’t pretend that you were never in love with them. You’re scared that every relationship to follow will be like having wine after whiskey. Something faint and feeble after something so strong and overpowering. Overpowering – that’s how much you loved him. The love you felt for him was unlike anything else, and incomparable to anyone else. The wine is never strong enough, and you can never truly get the taste of whiskey out of your mouth, just like you can never get the thought of him out of your mind. You’re scared he will always be there. You’re scared you will never love anyone that passionately ever again. You’re scared that every man after him will be like having wine, after whiskey.

Words

It’s beautiful isn’t it, writing? The way we can put words on a page and express ourselves. I’ve loved writing ever since I was young, ever since I realised that I could express myself better on paper than I ever could out loud. I was the little girl who would write apology letters, because my spoken words were never enough. We read books, and articles, and we never really take a step back to appreciate the words that have been written before us. We don’t appreciate the fact that an author whom we have never met has just taken five hours of our time with his beautifully written words and his enchanting story. I’ve always loved it. Being able to use words to express myself. Being able to write down everything I’m feeling, portray every way I’m hurting. Writing has become my solution, to all the pain and the heartache. It’s a way to let it out, a way to throw out all the negativity. When he broke my heart, I immediately thought the only thing I could do was sit in my bed and cry. I would talk to my friends, and I would look at his photographs, and I would cry. I can’t tell you whether this was helpful or not, because I haven’t figured it out yet myself. But I can tell you, that writing saved me. Something happens when you have to put the words down on paper. Somehow, it makes you think more clearly. You put thought into the words you’re using, and in turn you put thought into why you are using those words. I realised more about how I felt about him when I put pen to paper. I realised how much more he hurt me when I wrote it down. And I figured out how much better off I was without him, when instead of crying about it into my pillow, I wrote. One might say that it didn’t help me. One might say that here I am nearly six months later writing about him and that I clearly haven’t moved on. But I haven’t cried about him in months. I haven’t crawled into a ball and cried into my pillow wondering where he was or what he was doing. Instead, I sat down and I wrote. And when I was done writing, I had said all that I needed to say, and there was nothing left to think about, so I could move on with my day, with my life. Time heals all wounds; I strongly believe that. But who says you can’t have some help along the way. Writing is beautiful. Use it.

Thank You

Thank you. Thank you for teaching me the difference between right and wrong. Thank you for showing me what it feels like to be tossed aside. Thank you for teaching me cruelty. Thank you for teaching me heartbreak. Thank you for yelling at me. Thank you for your mean words. Thank you for forcing me to become strong. Thank you for showing me what I don’t deserve. Thank you for all those nights you made me cry. Thank you for for all the mistakes I made. Thank you for the lessons I learned from them. Thank you for showing me that forgiveness isn’t always the solution. Thank you for making fun of how much I cared. Thank you for not respecting me. Thank you for never appreciating anything I did. Thanks to you I now know when I should walk out of a relationship. Thanks to you I know what it’s like to feel betrayed.

Thank you for showing me what I don’t want. Thank you for showing me what it means to be selfish. Thank you for helping me decide to be less selfless. Thank you for not caring. Thank you for leaving me behind. Thank you for letting me have a fresh start. Thank you for not being a part of it. Thank you for all the terrible things you’ve said. Thank you for all the times I felt degraded and used. Thank you for making me feel what it’s like to hit rock bottom. Thank you for making me re-build. Thank you for all the destruction and the hurt.  Thank you for making me the woman that I am today. Thanks to you I’m stronger. Thanks to you I’m wiser. And thanks to you, I’ll never fall for you again.

When You’re In Love With The Idea Of Someone

I was sitting in bed today, and I realised that I’m not in love with you, I’m in love with the idea of you. I’ve been creating fantasies in my brain of the man that you could become. This idea of a man who will sweep me off my feet. This man who will be genuine and trustworthy, and love me as much as I love him. The man that will show up at my doorstep and say that he made a mistake and that he wants me back. The man that will realise that I’m the one for him. You have a new girlfriend now, and seeing pictures of the two of you has made me create a different you in my head. I’ve created an image of you that I always wished you could be. The kind, and loving boyfriend. The loyal one. The one who changed. The one who finally gave up his days of being a player and learned to love. But the fact of the matter is, I don’t know what your relationship now is like. I know that you’re serious about her, and I know that you care. But you haven’t changed, not as much as you think you have, otherwise you wouldn’t have called me 3 weeks ago to tell me how much you missed having sex with me. That showed me that you’re not a changed man. You’re not the man that I’ve created in my head. Maybe you’re better to her, maybe you care about her more, in fact on those counts I’m absolute sure that you do. But you’re still not the man I created in my head, you’re not the one who has caused the sleepless nights and the restless mornings, because that guy doesn’t exist. He’s what I wish you could be, he’s what I think you are to her, he’s what I always wanted. But he’s not you. And you’re not him. I loved you for a long time, I really did. I was so in love with you that I couldn’t even see how much you were destroying me and tearing me down. And for the past six months, ever since we said goodbye, I thought I still loved you. I kept thinking to myself “look how much he’s changed, he’s the man I always wanted.” But you’re not. For the past six months, I haven’t been in love with you. I’ve been in love with the idea of you, the idea of who you could become, and today I’m letting that idea go, and I’m letting you go along with it.