I thought I loved you. I didn’t.
It’s crazy how many times I’ve started writing this and how many times I’ve had to start again.
You make me question just how good of a writer I am because when I think back at what we called a relationship, I find it incredulously hard to articulate the experience into words. Honestly, I guess I shouldn't be too surprised, seeing as I was always at a loss of words with you. I mean, I could never say no to you.
You were my kryptonite. My Achilles’ heel. My weakness. I tried to fight this for a while, you know? The fact that I ever felt something for you. It was hard, daunting, and exhausting even. I keep asking myself if I ever loved you. What even is love? A character flaw? A sacrosanct emotion set aside for special people?
I think I loved you, or not. Either way, you made me happy. For a while, at least. The first time I ever felt like you may have loved me or even felt strongly about me, was the day we broke up. Crazy right? I vividly remember you calling, telling me all the reasons why I couldn't and shouldn't do this. You said, “ Aren’t you the one who told me that love wasn't a fleeting emotion? Are you saying you don't love me anymore?” and then it hit me. How could I love you, when I barely knew what love was?
I believe we live many lives in one lifetime. I lived a life with you and when we ended things, I started another. You did, too.
We had had issues for a while. My anger stemmed from a place of confusion. I could never seem to figure out how you always had your shit together and I could never seem to find my stride. How your notes were always up to date, your assignments and projects completed with the ultimate sense of perfection.
I, on the other hand, was a walking mess. I never seemed to have enough time. 24 hours just weren’t enough anymore. I struggled to find the problem and when I couldn’t figure it out, I realized it was you! You were the problem. You and your perfectionist self were the issues all along.
I got even angrier. We needed to talk, but instead, you started to avoid me, and I did the same. We were great at bottling up emotion, you and I should have won an award for that. We were that good.
Finally, the climax. I was at the movies with some friends. I had been moping for days and they had decided it was enough. I saw you, on the right side of the theatre, 2 rows up, maybe 4. I honestly don’t remember.
I texted you. “We need to talk about this,” I said. You didn't reply. I waited. A few hours later, the movie came to a horrifying end. It was a horror movie, you see. Just like the one about to play out in our lives.
You finally called and I picked up. “What do you want to talk about?” you asked. In my head, I wondered. ‘How could he not know? I mean, was I the only one who felt like we were venturing towards the end? If we had any hope of saving this, it was now or never.’ “Let’s talk in person” I replied.
“Say whatever you want over the phone.” you snapped. Those words lit a self-righteous fire in me. I was furious. “ I should say whatever I want over the phone?! Fine. We’re done.”
Silence.
Radio silence. All I could hear for exactly 54 seconds were the sounds of signals and waves conversing and transmitting to each other. I wondered what they were saying. Probably something like, ‘can these kids get off the phone already? they seem to be over anyway.’
You eventually spoke and said, “You’re joking. Call me when you get to your room.”
I had so many responses for you but none of them seemed appropriate enough so all I said in reply was, “I don’t have credit.” Now that I think back on it, that was pathetic. I should have cussed you out. Yelled at you for invalidating my decision. Anything but what I said.
“I’ll call back,” you said and cut the call. I started to question everything. Did I make a mistake? Should I try to work it out? So many thoughts and so little time.
You did call back. You said all the right things. All the things I always wanted to hear you say, but they didn't matter anymore. You didn't matter anymore. In my head, you no longer existed. It’s crazy how easily I forget.
At a point, you got all emotional. I was told you cried. I cried too, but for different reasons. I cried for what we could have had. I cried for the memories that were already starting to fade. I cried because you were too easy to forget.
I cried because I felt too much. I cried because I would see you the next day and the day after, and we wouldn't speak. I cried because thoughts of you were now tainted with hurt, a dull continuous pain.
I thought I loved you. I didn’t.
They say, “People accept the love they think they deserve.” What we had was toxic, obsessive even. I accepted the love you gave me because I didn’t think it could get any better than that. (cue song) It don’t get any better than this by George Jones.
I did so many things wrong with you and I honestly wish I could go back in time and change them. But life doesn’t give those types of second chances.
You’ll be glad to know, though. I’m learning what love is to me, and the love I deserve. The love we all deserve.
Love is a choice. It’s choosing to look above and beyond our flaws as humans and love each other regardless, every day.
Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends. — 1st Corinthians 13 : 4–8.
Love is the ultimate sacrifice, that a man shed his blood and died on the cross, all that we might be saved.
Love is comfort in uncomfortable places.
Love is a space for refuge, pain, and growth.
Love is reading a book together from the first page to the last.
Love is worshipping until all we can hear are the sounds of our voices in melodious harmony.
Love is laughing until tears are streaming from our eyes.
Love is supporting each other from the sidelines.
Love. Some say a feeling. Others, a choice.
I say, we simply love because He loved us first.
