Tag Archives: moving on

Absolute Farewell; …

…as in I will never hypothetically speak to you again.  No more letters, no more musings, at least none that I can anticipate being directly meant for you.

I found pictures of you on instagram today.  I’d like to pretend that I wasn’t looking, but I think I really was.  I didn’t *have* to be casually browsing an instagram account that belonged to a location you were sure to hang out at that just so happened to post tons of group photos of it’s clients.  I also didn’t *have* to quickly skim over all the pictures, glancing left and right for any trace of your ever-recognizable face.  But I did.  Ohhhhh did I.

Earlier this year, one of my cats got crazy sick, and I was so certain that she’d taken all of my feelings away from you.  As it turns out, a lot of it was just distraction.  Of course I still think about you, but of course, like any relatively sane human being, I have thought of you less and less.

Anyways, obviously I wouldn’t torture myself with “coincidentally” finding pictures of you online and “accidentally” spotting you out a mile away from me on the streets unless I still had a case of the lingers.  I can only pretend karma’s a bitch for so long before I need to own up!!

But today’s picture findings were different somehow.  Maybe it’s that this time around, I can actually see your face, and not your trashy manhood pics.  Buuuut I’d hate to admit that after all this time, my emotional train wreck of a life has no one to blame but me and my attachment to your junk.  *sigh*

You look gay.

Which is totally, absolutely, splendidly, totally actually fine.  But I didn’t fall in love with a gay man.  I fell in love with a hetero-normative closet case who played video games and worked out.  Which in a weird way, is kind of what made my feelings for you so hardcore.  I’m by no means trapped in the closet or shy about who I am, but I just have this complex of being in a totally heterosexually-defined role play of a relationship.  One where, duh, I play the classy lady who gets pretend knocked up with your kids and spends all day raising hell (I mean a family).

It’s messed, I know.  It’s probably something I need to work on!  I guess I just really appreciate the stereotypical roles in a relationship, even though I will never be in a stereotypical relationship.  At least not in this decade!!

AAAANYWAYS, societal expectations and gender confusion aside, I’m just not that into you anymore.  At least not based off of how you look.  (Holy crap this makes me sound like an asshole).  But honestly, I’m proud of you for it.

You look happy.  You look out.  I had a hard time accepting that you weren’t truly happy in our relationship, but my gosh was it ever obvious looking back.  I’m glad that you have friends you can relate your life experiences and problems to, and can (seemingly) express yourself in a way that is so odd for me to see now that it’s obvious it would have never happened in my la la land machine.

I’ll probably always be a little jaded that my first love, (and a love so fine at that), never worked out, but I feel a little bit released from you finally.  I feel less like there’s something I need to prove of myself should we ever accidentally bump into each other.  I’m looking for a big ol’ earthy potato, and you’re looking for fruity little boysenberries.  We don’t even share a flipping garden anymore, God bless.

So even though you clearly never sought my permission to begin with, I give you permission to live your life.  And I’ll try and give myself that same courtesy at long last!

I fucking love what you were for me, and it’s probably best I never see you again  ;)


“Nobody loves me, everybody hates me”

“Nobody loves me, everybody hates me!”  You used to chant.  Maybe you still do, but I wouldn’t really know anymore.  It had been so long since I’ve heard from you.  I miss you so much.

I couldn’t believe you called me the other night.  When I saw the caller I.D. on my phone say “***** Home”, I was in total shock!  That’s why I answered the phone with a reluctant “Hello?”.  Since it was your parents home phone calling me and not your cellphone, I instantly decided either:

A)  Your mom was worried about me as I’ve avoided all contact with her lately as well, or

B)  You broke up with your boyfriend and moved back home, obviously looking to your best friend for support once again.

A part of me really hoped it was “B”.  I was so hopeful that you’d moved back home and found yourself feeling lonely and missing me, the same way I feel about you almost every day!  I even tried fishing for the details right off the bat, but I don’t know if you noticed.

It meant a lot to me that you called me again.  A long time ago I decided that I would not go out of my way to make first contact with you, because you always wound up being too busy which made me feel so insignificant.  I also just felt weird being the one to seek out your time.  Our whole friendship, we’ve succeeded by your prying and constant seeking attention from me.  Back then, I knew that I was important to you.  Now I’m not as sure…

I know that I will always be someone you care about, and I know that you do not hold me in any negative regard, but I can’t help but feel that my friendship isn’t important to you anymore.  And I don’t know how I should expect myself to feel anything different…

If I’m not important to you anymore, I want there to be a finality to it.  I don’t want to hold onto memories of you anymore.  I don’t want to miss you and to fleetingly anticipate spending time with you and your family again if it is likely never to come true.  I don’t want to hold on to you the way I’ve been holding onto everything else that makes me sad.

Forgive me if I’m being cold.  But you’ve known me a very long time now.  You should know that I don’t abide by the formalities involved in personal relationships.  If I find myself feeling unnecessary, then I remove myself.  Please let me remove myself if I’ve become unnecessary to you.

Your chant has become my own.  Don’t torment me with your friendship if it doesn’t exist anymore.

Come what may, these fears do stay.

I am afraid.  In a sense I have always been afraid–of where I will end up in life, of whether or not I will be alone, of what I kind of person I will become.  But my biggest fear in life lately has been learning to accomodate myself in your absence.  It’s a nightmare.

As time exceeds old limits of our last encounter, I grow wearier every day.  I miss you, and long to tell you so.  It’s a challenge to crawl into bed at night and feel anything but empty.  I still cry for you.

I never understand what admitting these kind of things ever does for me.  I never know how to deny you.  I feel like I am forever holding onto you when I am someone you let go of a long time ago now.  You don’t even try and keep in touch on a friend basis anymore, and so I am happy that you don’t feel as burdened and consumed as I do.  I am glad you are making something of your life.

It’s not like my life doesn’t look any differently than the last time we met.  I know that I am growing too, inspite of everything.  But it is a stinted growth.  It is growth that is inhibited by fears of leaving the viability of us behind me.  Even after all that has happened, I am still afraid to leave you behind.

You would maybe find this quandary of mine to be funny.  Sad maybe.  Unneccessary.  But I don’t mind.  I am obliged to consider your place in my heart every day, and it is a task I have never relented.  I once considered you to be a reflection of myself–a soul that found answers where I could not, and fell limp where I stood taut.  That has never changed.

I have not forgotten our intricate dynamic.  The way we were never with a stranger in the company of one another.  You were a leader and a bit of an egoist–you shared yourself and I indulged.  It was as if I were designed to love your every whim and make it into my own.  To follow your direction but herald new meaning and breathe life into independant thoughts and shared memories.

And so as it currently stands, it is my understanding that I was born into this world to be that person for you.  I am here to be your other–and if you don’t feel the same for yourself, it has happened on my behalf anyways.

So I am still waiting for you.  I am afraid that I will wait for you for forever.

Winnie the Pooh

Chapter anew.

I still think about you a lot.  Maybe no more than usual.  Certainly no less.

It’s different though, lately.  My thoughts are unclear.  Uncoordinated.  I don’t really know where to place my feelings or what to make of them.  I’m hesitant to really continue feeling anything at all.  We’ve been apart for so long now.  I haven’t seen you for so long.  Everything feels like a blurry dream.  I feel so much like you never even existed.

Every day we grow further and further apart.  My heart is still in this for you, but I can’t feel yours anymore.  I don’t feel any remnants of a connection with you.  I’m not idealizing your thoughts or rationalizing your actions.  You are missing.

I know that I miss you.  I know that I want to find some part of you in this world again.  But…

I fear that the innocence we shared will never return, even if someday you do.  I can’t continue to allow myself to wait for something that has faded into memory.  You have forgotten me, as time has told me, and now I choose to pursue the same path.

I will forget you too someday.  I’ve learned too much about myself from you and what it means to truly love someone to ever forget entirely, but it’s time to let our brief chapter together in this life finally turn it’s last page.

“When people walk away from you, let them go.  Your destiny is never tied to someone who leaves you.  And it doesn’t make them bad people, it just means that their part in your story is over.”

I really do love you.  I love you for everything that you are, with everything that I know.  And I hope that someday when the tears come to find you, you remember that you turned your back on me.  Even long after you left, I never turned my back on you.

Apartment Reclamation

It’s been 5 months.  5 months ago today he left me.  No wonder I’ve been having such a sad day–it just hit me.

I’ve been thinking a lot about him lately.  How he’s treated me, how he’s been inconsiderate of me, how he’s disrespected me.  It makes it easier for me to understand that I was in love with someone who maybe never even existed.  Or, maybe he did.  But it’s clear to me now that he doesn’t exist within my realm of perception anymore.  I still long for who he was, and I miss the things we had, but I’m learning daily how much these things are lost to me now, and how I can never find them in such a person again.

It’s time I find myself in this place.  In this city, in this mind, in this body… in this apartment.  This apartment that I shared with him and loved him in.

I’ve already started.  I’ve made some new memories with my girls (my kittens).  I’ve bought some new furniture, I’ve moved some old furniture.  I’ve really tied my place together with an electric firplace I bought.  My place feels… safe, and warm again.  Without him, I am still safe and warm.

I have this memory from many years ago.  My grandma was visiting us for Christmas, and my brother was entertaining her in the living room.  The fireplace was going, he was playing with the record player, the lighting was soft and embracing, and I was in his room playing Grand Theft Auto.  (Way to ruin the ambiance of my memory, hey?).  Actually, this memory is very important to me, and I have many others like it.  I had this sense of overwhelming peace and love for where I was and the people who were around me.  I remember looking at every detail–every reflection of light, every shadow, every sound–and I remember falling absolutely in love with all of it.

I had that the other night.  My fireplace was put together, the lighting was perfect, I was mapping out where I’d put my new area rug and coffee table, and I just felt at home again.  I felt like this place I am in, this place where I’ve felt so much heartache and pain, was finally mine.

I found my home.


Dear xxxxx,

I suppose this is goodbye.  Well, maybe.  To be frank, a part of me will always be waiting for you.  I will always love you and I will always forgive you, no matter how much you have hurt me.

You see, you were much more than a boyfriend to me–you were family.  I admired you and respected you.  I fought with you, I nagged at you, I pushed you and I hurt you.  But I did it because I love you.  I did it because you were absolutely everything to me.  You were and always are at the forefront of my mind.  I am always worried for you and wondering what you’re thinking and why you do the things you do.  All I ever wanted from you was to let me be a part of your life.  That is the only thing I couldn’t accept, and rather than supporting you and always letting you know I loved you, I ended up pushing just a little too far.  It’s what I do with those I love.  I don’t always have a boundary for my feelings.

I hate not knowing.  I hate not knowing what caused this.  I hate how I feel like this is my fault–that I took the most amazing thing that ever happened in my life and turned it sour.  I hate not knowing if you’re just a terrible person for doing what you’ve done to me these past few months, or if you genuinely love me and struggle with what has happened as well.

I wish it would be the latter.  I wish you would let me work with that.  I wish you could know how much I just want to tell you I love you every night again.  How much I want to lay in your arms and get a good night’s sleep again, just to be honoured with the sight of your peaceful face in the shadows of the morning sun.  I wish you could see how much I had integrated you into my life.  How much I’ve made your memory and your love a lasting routine.  It truly destroys me knowing that I can’t live for you anymore.  I don’t get another chance to be what you really need in life.

I wonder if you anticipate how much I hurt when you tell me what you do with your new relationship.  I wonder what you think before telling me that you two haven’t connected like we have, and that you miss us.  I wonder if you realize how much I physically hurt hearing from you the very things I cry thinking about every day.  And you still love me.  You won’t go so far as to reject me entirely.  You can’t let me go but you won’t love me back.  I wonder if you know exactly how hard this is for me.  To be in a position where I myself finally need to say goodbye to you so that I can try and find new meaning in my life.

And by new meaning, I mean new purpose.  I’ve tried moving on emotionally, but I find that I simply can’t.  When I’m with another man, I feel guilty.  I see your face in them–your eyes.  I see them look back at me with that want.  And I wretch inside knowing that those were eyes you had for me.  I feel like I betray you.  And I give up.

Perhaps being in love isn’t in the books for me.  Maybe I’m not meant to talk about children and a future with someone.  Maybe I’m not supposed to have someone in my life I’m to depend on.  Maybe I’m just supposed to find my way all by myself–what a bitter realization.  I can’t do these things without you though.

I think that maybe I’m just a one-trick pony.  All the love I will ever know myself to share has already been given to you.  I will never forget my luck to have found someone in this life who I see so much of myself in–who understood me and humoured me and cared for me.  And yet, I will never forgive my misfortune of not having these same feelings returned.

Maybe this is goodbye forever.  Or maybe this is just a goodbye for you.  If moving on is truly what you want to do, then I want you to do just that.  I want you to find the person who makes you feel the way I feel about you, and I want you to be happy.  I feel like a goodbye is all I can offer you at this point… but please know that in my heart, I will never, ever, say goodbye to you.

Though I’ve been bitter and I’ve been resentful, I forgive you and I love you.  I hope you can find the strength to one day be yourself around your family and friends, and give someone that feeling of acceptance and love that I will always envy them for.

Most informal of goodbyes,


I still love him.

“And I remember when I met him, it was so clear that he was the only one for me.  We both knew it, right away.

And as the years went on, things got more difficult–we were faced with more challenges.  I begged him to stay.  Try to remember what we had at the beginning.

He was charismatic, magnetic, electric and everybody knew it.  When he walked in, every woman’s head turned, everyone stood up to talk to him.  He was like this hybrid, this mix of a man who couldn’t contain himself.

I always got the sense that he became torn between being a good person and missing out on all of the opportunities that life could offer a man as magnificent as him.  And in that way I understood him and I loved him.

I loved him, I loved him, I loved him.

And I still love him.  I love him.”

He texted me the other day.  I was already having a really rough day; it had been exactly 4 months since he left me.  I don’t know if he knew that or not.  He told me I don’t have to respond if I don’t want, but that he’s really sorry he hurt me and he misses me.

I asked him to call me last night.  Everything felt so normal…

I miss him too, but I only said it in so many words.  He hasn’t changed.  He may feel sorry for hurting me, but he continues to do so.  He tells me he hasn’t been able to connect with his new partner in the same way we had, and that he misses being with me.  But we both know that means nothing.

He keeps dragging my feelings back into this mess everytime he thinks about me.  He breaks me and drops subtle clues about all the things they do–all the things we did, or promised we’d do.  I’ve been replaced.  Essentially, he reaches out to me every now and again to make sure I remember that.

He still loves me.  It’s not hard to tell.  He just refuses to acknowledge it and insists on making me relive it.

I still love him.  And these lyrics describe us.  He struggles between being a good man and being here for me, and living his life and having a good time.  I guess he’s chosen his path.  And now I continue down mine…