Missing the year 2014 a little, when I'd handled the first break-up fairly well. I did it better after a 1-year relationship than a foolish 2-months fling in secondary school, and I'm not sure if that could be labeled as strength, as growing up.
When you find an other half, you really do want to spill everything out to them. If you couldn't tell them everything that's bothering you, then who else could there be? It's me to blame, it's you to blame, and yet there's both to blame and no one to blame and everyone to blame.
It's a bigger gap this time compared to 3 years ago; back then I only had him to lose but how does one move on from a soulmate and a daughter? All the books in the world, and none that could teach me. This break-up might be a blessing because missing him is distracting me from missing her.
A few weeks, or was it days, before he left I was already missing 2013, when everything was all fun and games between the both of us. We loved each other without thinking of our pasts and futures, and I thought that was just perfect. We were infinitely young, and it was us against everyone else.
I missed it so much that I made a playlist for the songs I'd been listening to, songs that I heard on the radio at the bakery I'd worked at. Songs that a poly classmate blasted on his laptop, songs that played overhead when I'd gone playing pool with them.
I guess halfway through the past 2 years it became me against him, him against me. Third parties came between us: insecurity, overthinking, jealousy, an unplanned life, a mental illness. I built the walls blocking him out, and he just got tired of trying to break them down each time. He thought he wasn't the one for me, and I, not the one for him.
I keep wishing I was beautiful and normal, then maybe things would have been different. 6 months after our first break-up he'd seen me change for the better and returned, and I accepted him wholeheartedly. I don't have anything great to do this time for that to happen again, and I think all is lost.
But I'm just gonna do it. Or die trying. 4 months into the new year, and I'm just starting to think of resolutions. Once I get my salary, I will invest in a full MS Word package and start writing, start typing away like a maniac on my laptop every single day. It's okay if I don't get published; they said a collection of rejection letters is good for an aspiring writer's soul.
On my side, he is the villain, a hurricane ripping through my heart; on his side, I am the bad guy, the rampant fire that burned everything of his to dust. We are alone yet side by side, both single-handedly rebuilding our worlds that we had destroyed together.
Maybe he's already found other girls to talk to, maybe one of them is already able to make his heart skip and already putting in effort for him. It stings to think about, but on the bright side, I am able to stop thinking of her for a moment. I really can't tell yet if this break-up is truly a blessing, but it's a slap and cold water poured to my face.
I'm sorry to the people who are reading this, the ones who are on my side: but I'm still waiting for him. I don't want anyone else, and if none of the girls he talks to works out, I hope he knows he can always come back to me and that I've forgiven everything that he's said and done.
When he came back in July 2014, he mentioned how he had stayed faithful while I was going off with so many boys in trying to move on. I think this time it's my turn to stay; fuck it I don't have anywhere to go anyway, and I'll be here sitting, always.
My heart is still in the same three spots as it was two years ago: Popular at OneKM; in heaven, wherever she is and however state she is in; and with him, traveling through customs every morning and every night. And it's okay, because I'm just certain I want to keep it at these places, even if they don't want it.
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