Within a week of knowing you, I turned to you and said, “You’re going to break my heart, aren’t you?”
Man, was there ever so much fun had and so much love felt in a heartbreak.
Heartbreak is something that a person goes through multiple times in his/her life until they find someone who simply holds their heart in their breast pocket, beating in rhythm against their own. And even then, the pocket might wear over time, strand by strand breaking loose until there is a heart-sized hole in the bottom and the next thing you know, your heart isn’t beating in sync with your person anymore. By the time you can tear your eyes away from the travesty lying on the ground, you’re all alone.
You weren’t like that to me, but I saw that happen with my own parents. That’s something I never want for myself. But is it inevitable? I don’t know.
You weren’t like that.
You were like a warm hug on a cold day. You were the laughter that filled my chest until I couldn’t breathe. I’d watch you dance around, drunk on a Saturday night and my heart would be full just watching you as you became a memory engraved in my brain. Like the time when we danced around the kitchen and you had me play songs that represented the important people in my life. That was one of my favorite nights. Or when we spent the day with your friends and as I got ready for the night, you couldn’t tear yourself from my side, questioning why I bothered to even put on makeup.
That was when you still reminded me that I was beautiful.
Quickly in, quickly out. Our four months together were a rollercoaster. But not the kind that goes up and down, up and down, no. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. We had the up; the nice, slow rise that makes your toes tingle and you giggle out of pure joy and a little anxiety for what’s to come. The sleepovers, the kisses, the constant need to be together and the longing when apart. Then, sitting stagnant at the top, I started to fade in your mind. You stopped giving me attention in front of your friends, and when you were with me you were somewhere else. I don’t think it helped when we finally decided to have sex. They say adding sex changes the nature of the relationship. I didn’t want to believe it because we still had the passion, but other than that we dwindled down to sarcastic comments and whiny responses to play them off. I was bothered; I could feel my heart start to creak and groan under the weight of what was to come. I’d been on roller coasters before. This one had seemed different, but I guess, in the end, they all have the drop.
Even now I don’t feel bitter. Even now I have no resentment. I got on the rollercoaster. Hell, I strapped myself in.
I don’t want you to forget the man you were for me, but more importantly, don’t forget the man you were becoming for you. It made me so happy when you finally acknowledged that your feelings are valid and deserve to be shared. It made me feel so blessed that you admired my family’s closeness and desired to mirror that by reaching out to your mom and sister more. It made me so proud that you achieved excellent grades and held your academics to higher standards and when you deviated from the social norms of your team you so willingly followed to sit back and enjoy life with me. I worry about you, I always will. I don’t want you to lose who I believe you really are, who you uncovered with me. Certain aspects of life get comfortable, but you shouldn’t stay stuck in the mud of the past when you are capable of so much more in your future.
As much as you will be missing for voluntarily losing out on something as great as me, you’re still an amazing person and should know your worth.
The worst part is, I feel dramatic because I feel heartbroken. Although we never officially said it, I will count you as my first real love. You were the one who made me regret my past. You were the first man that made me delete the others, the others who to this day badger me for things I don’t want to give them, the ones I kept on the line for the attention. You were the first one who I could see myself truly loving, maybe even moving across the country for. You taught me that I could trust and could be loved, even deserved to be loved and for that, I’m grateful. Because of that, four months seemed like a short lifetime, and man, what an adventure.
But my adventures aren’t over. I know you’ll be happy. And I know I’ll be fine.
The amount of times the rollercoaster straps have come loose and I’ve plummeted to the cement, yet somehow, brushed myself off and walked away from it all, reminds me that I can do that again and again.
When I had expressed my fear of falling, you told me to trust you. And I did.
To my disappointment, you let me slip through your fingers and right out of my seat, not even noticing that I was the one you had said you would hold on to. Your gaze was elsewhere and I was falling.
Yet, as I went down, as I let go instead of holding on for dear life, I hollered, “I love you, always will. Be happy.”
You thanked me and told me I deserve better.
I think you could have been the better I deserve. But you had to want it, you had to commit to it.
Timing is everything, and timing’s a bitch.
But I’m not. And while I want you to choose me more than I’ve ever wanted anything to go my way, I don’t need that. I don’t need you. I’m not saying this to be malicious, but to let you know I’ll be fine without you. To remind you that I’ll always hold my head high and smile graciously.
I will always care about you. God put me in your life for a reason; you needed me in some way. I’m glad that I could be the person to help you along.
I will always love the man you were when you were with me. He gave me light and laughter and love.
Remember him. I know I will.