I heard somewhere the other day a reference to something called the “Four Seasons of Heartbreak”. Or maybe it was of “dating”. Or of “break-up”. Who’s to say, really. This is what such an idea means to me:
You left me towards the end of spring, though I guess we’d seen some days of summer go by together as well. All of my initial grieving was done in the midst of summer.
I don’t have many memories of you from last summer. Mostly just our river valley adventure, and the two ducks that reminded us of ourselves. Of course our trek to Wok Box afterwards and cozying up to a movie that evening was a good memory too. There was also the day we were so hot that we took off all our clothes and cuddled up with ice cream bars to Spirited Away. But perhaps that was the same day—it’s been far too long now.
Summer drew a close to our blossoming romance, and intensified my feelings of loneliness and insecurity.
Towards the end of summer, you were constantly on my mind. So much so that I tried to get back in touch with you, and succeeded towards the end of July and beginning of August. This was my first season without you. I have no memories to cherish, only memories of feeling scorned and broken.
I was strong though. I felt good about who I was, and what I had to offer you. I tried really hard to be the person I should have been all along. I wasn’t what you wanted for yourself, but you lead me to believe that I wasn’t good enough either. There’s a fine line.
Autumn saw me through new colours of wisdom and actualization. I shed my inhibitions so that I could see myself through offering you everything I could, to no avail.
Autumn left me barren and desolate. I’d tried everything, and had at last succumbed to anticipating your fleeting messages every couple of months. I saw and heard less and less of you. These cold lonely nights were a stark contrast to the first months that we’d shared when we first met.
The end of January is the last I’ve heard from you. You contacted me on a day I was at an all time emotional low. I’d been thinking of you all day. It felt like karma was on my side once again, and that almost a year after we had started dating, you’d realized that you still loved me. But you didn’t. You were honest with me though. You gave me truths that I needed to hear.
Winter closed with a new and faint warmth burning in my heart. Days that I physically mourned you grew far more sparse, and I began allowing myself to enjoy the things that make me happy.
Much like the indecisive season of spring we had experienced this year, my temperament has ranged from content to defeated. I’ve been hot and cold. Last spring, as much as I love the time I spent with you, my memories do recall losses and growing apart. This season has been filled with sadness and song, and I am encouraged and discouraged by my reality on the daily.
June 20th will be one year since you have left me. I remember the day as though it were only yesterday. I spent the morning anticipating getting to see you. We had a dinner date that night, after you finished at work and the gym. I got my hair cut and looked especially charming for our rendezvous. And yet, the car ride was awkward. The dinner was awkward. And upon confronting you when we got back to my place my world came crashing down.
This spring brought hope of new enlightenment. I have new ambitions and new dreams to fulfill.
I still think of you often. Even more so as June 20th draws near. I miss you, and it saddens me to realize how much time we’ve been apart. I’ve now seen myself through four seasons of heartbreak. I have experienced four seasons of change and growth without you. And though I have still not forgotten you, perhaps this season of heartbreak will teach me that forgetting you is something I ought to never try anyways. I will keep you dear to me, and not feel distressed or sad because of it. I will keep you in my heart as I change and as I grow, because until I find new seasons of love, you will be and always have been my motivation to be me.