Recovery

NOTE: I do apologize if this post is a bit vague or confusing, but I really just want to get over this and move on to the next phase of my young life.


Well, whether y'all knew it or not, I recently lost the love of my life. No, he's not dead, but the love that once was there no longer exists.

I won't go into much detail about this sad and untimely ending, but what I will say is this: it wasn't so much the person that I now find myself missing as it was the bond that we once had. Things had been simpler at the beginning, and even when they weren't so simple, we had been able to talk with such ease and lightheartedness.

The past couple of months were nothing like that. I would ask pure and simple questions, and he would always reply in a detached and curt manner. I wanted to talk about things, you know, I could feel the end coming and wanted to resolve our awkward situation cleanly, but he would never be "available" to talk. At the beginning of summer I proposed a meeting time. He refused. I stated that I wanted to talk to get over the obvious awkwardness, and he responded that he didn't sense anything wrong. I let it be.

A few weeks later, he says, "Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to catch up in person." I said, "Alright." At the last moment, he changes his mind. No meeting time. I then made the decision that I wouldn't try anymore, for my efforts always proved to be in vain.


Then a couple of days before he had to leave, he tells me he doesn't want to come off as being short and cold with me, and he says it would be nice to talk "civilly" or whatever. I accept this offer. Surprise, surprise, on the day of, he cancels once more, which is understandable because it's a busy weekend anyway. But it all kind of supports my idea that he just wanted to redeem himself at the last moment, even though he knew that we wouldn't be able to meet: in "attempting" to really talk together, he would no longer appear to be a cold and detached person, and I would forget about the uncomfortable things we were going through.


Oh well. I really think I loved him. And while I'm going through this forced, self-inflicted recovery, this fear lurks in the back of my mind that at the first moment he speaks to me again, I'll surrender. And then there's is always the chance that I've misinterpreted everything, but you know, the funny thing about that is that this misinterpretation could have been avoided if he had taken the time to talk to me. He could have given me any reason for his detachment -- I wouldn't have minded. I just prefer to know why things go the way they go rather than not know.


You hear that, (former) love of my life? There's still time for you to explain yourself, but I'm not going to ask anymore.