It’s like a door that’s too old, that never quite shuts right. And using that little bit of leeway, you somehow always manage to weasel your way back in into my life, into my heart… Only to leave me time and again, always in pieces.
Everybody else perceived me as aloof and strong, but they never knew how you were my one weakness, the love I could never seem to get over.
The first time you left back in high school, I was broken. I gave everything I had to you, and even then it wasn’t enough. You shattered my dreams of a fairy tale romance, and with it, my very soul. A glass shard seemed permanently etched in my heart and everyday was an agony. Even breathing hurt so bad. When we passed each other in the hallway, you never once looked my way. It was as if I’d suddenly dropped out of existence from your world. You needn’t had to bother with avoiding me, because I did enough for both of us. Seeing you simply hurt too much. Nobody saw the tears I shed for you; nobody knew that I feel asleep to a damp pillow every night. I never let them.
Then we went off to different colleges, and I moved out of state. There were just too many memories of you around and I knew I had to get away in order to rebuild my life. I cut off all contact with my friends and people who knew you and erased everything in existence that reminded me of you. I slowly picked up the pieces of my strewn heart and carefully glued them back together. I had barely learnt to get used to the constant aching in my heart before you slipped back into my life.
You showed up at my doorstep, out of the blue. When I arrived back home one day to find you sitting there on the steps to my apartment, conflicting emotions ran through me. I wasn’t ready. For this, for you, nor to face the pain once more. I was about to turn and walk off, feigning ignorance, hoping that you’d be gone by the time I got back from a sudden urgent need for a dose of caffeine, but you looked up at that moment and met my eyes. Those clear, blue eyes of yours. Filled with apprehension, I forced myself to walk forward and acknowledged your presence with a slight nod. We stood there in awkward silence before you finally spoke, spilling apologies and confessions of love and how you did me wrong. Words that I’d longed to hear before, but only served to bring the pain afresh now.
Somehow we started talking again, and not long after got back together. I hesitated for a while, but still caved in to you in the end. Maybe things would be different this time round? We’ve both grown since then, surely things would be different. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
The second time you left me, I had just started my second year in college. My carefully restored life fell apart around me once more. I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t get why history was repeating. Weren’t we over all that? Where did my happily ever after go to? I started to lose hope.
You stayed away. I locked away my memories of you for a second time. Tight.
Into my third year in college, I got to know a really sweet guy. He was good to me, and I was comfortable with him. It was the closest thing to normal that I’ve felt since you left.
And then you came back.
I wavered. I shouldn’t have, I know. And I lost a great guy and friend. And so it continued… Every single time that my life was starting to have some semblance of normalcy, you would show up and smash everything to smithereens. You were like a windstorm leaving destruction in your wake everywhere you went, especially me. It took a few more times before I finally decided that I was too tired to care or love anymore, that maybe love was never for me. I can’t go on like this forever, throwing down my life for you and having to pick up the pieces each time you walk away. So I let you go. And placed a door wedge AND a chair against the damn door. My life will not be yours; You will not be allowed to wreck my life anymore.
Right now, I’m not happy, and I’m starting to think that maybe I never will be happy again. But at least I’m not sad all the time anymore. That counts for something, right? And maybe, just maybe, someday I’ll get over you. Or maybe I’ll never ever get over you, and that’s okay too. I’m learning to get over the thought of loving you.