I post this to an open forum, to purge these words from me so they can exist somewhere concrete, out in the Universe, instead of eating away at the corner of my mind when it gets dark and everyone else goes home with whoever they’re loving or fucking or both if they’re lucky. But it’s winter now, so the season of long patio nights and random hookups and breathlessly exciting flings and sweaty sheets and sleepless nights has officially come to a close until the next turn of the seasons. In short, I can no longer distract myself from your absence.
You were my best friend. There were others before, and others after, but most of them only served to help me situate and recognize your importance in my life. If ever I get that close to another, I fear they will know me only as I am now, and not as how I got here. You have been my reflection, borne witness to me, helped me gauge my own growth in this long and convoluted life. Four different cities for you, two for me. Two countries on opposite sides of the world in different hemispheres. Plane tickets, train rides, international calling plans, endless conversation, anticipation, disappointment, breakups, makeups, death. Four years. My entire University career. I am indelibly marked with your presence.
And now nothing. I felt no more fireworks when we kissed. I pulled away, sickened with myself for trying to fake it. I couldn’t fuck you like I meant it anymore. You noticed. You left.
And now, I am not lost. I am not sad and I am not afraid. But something has died. I do not love, or laugh, or notice color. I hate the music you like now. I hate myself for not loving you enough.
You did nothing wrong, except maybe love me too much, too well. Even at the end, when our hearts were so twisted up we were spitting words unrecognizable to each other, even then you were too good to say what we were both thinking- that I won’t find anyone else who loved me as you did. And you’re right. Because the kind of love I had with you, the one that remakes your soul into something better, and forces you to recognize and honor the humanity in another person- that kind of love isn’t what I’m looking for. I’m going for the cheap ones now. The guys with square jaws and big arms and small brains. They haven’t read any philosophy, or possess the gift of playful banter, or looked me in the eyes and focused on my soul. I am not doing Us justice. I am taking the easy way. I am disgusting myself.
This is what’s meant by falling out of love with someone. This is why half the world walks around heartbroken, glazed over, given up. I almost put that ring on and pretended everything was ok, but you didn’t smell right anymore.
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I did not write this. ( Best of Craigslist. )
Oh, God. Too many melancholy chords.