Today, I am going to show you all a blog post that I posted back in November. It mostly went unseen as it was posted in the early hours of the morning, and taken down twenty minutes later due to my conscience telling me to be a better person and to take it down. However, in reflection a couple of months later, I still believe that what I had to say needs to be shared. Often, at the end of a relationship, the communication dies too. Sometimes, it can be a good thing. In the case of my last break up, it should have happened, but due to circumstances that I couldn’t control the communication continued, which sparked probably my most vulnerable post yet, which was posted as follows.
“We all aim to find someone that loves and cares for us as much as we do for them. We aim to find someone we can make happy and share those experiences with. Fragility can be special. It can be exhilarating and thrilling, but it can also be toxic. We all hope for stability and continuous love, but that’s not always what we get. People change, circumstances change, and sometimes it feels like you’re being ripped apart for uncertain reasons.
You can plan futures together with high hopes and excitement, but nothing can tell you that it’s all going to come crashing down around you in a matter of ten minutes. Recently, I got out of a relationship that I didn’t expect to be out of. Although all the warning signs were blaring brighter than the lights on an emergency vehicle at night, I saw myself in the relationship for as far as I could predict (which in my life is only a few months in advance). To me, this was a significant part of my life. I promised I would be there for milestones in his life, one of which occurred over the weekend for him. Was I there to support him and share the excitement as I had promised?… No. Do I wish I was there?… Yes, because I much as I don’t want to, I still care.
Our lives were made of puzzle pieces that never quite fit, which brought excitement, thrill and adventure. We made things work and it felt incredible. Not knowing what was to come next was thrilling. Every day there was something new — a new challenge, a new question, or a new outlook. I never realised that one day it would all come to a screaming halt. I didn’t even think of it until it was happening. I have every reason to be angry and hate him, but there is still a piece inside of me that makes it impossible for me. I put on a brave face and tell everyone “I am fine” or “I’m over him,” but there are nights like tonight where I begin to doubt myself. Nights when I realise that I wasn’t there for the events we had talked about, or when I begin to think about what we shared or how his book is going; it’s nights like these where I question my true feelings. It’s easy to tell people that you are over it and look as though you’re shaking it off like it was nothing. Accepting the truth and moving on is a lot easier said than done.
I deleted all our pictures, our memories and our conversations, but I kept his number. It’s the one thing I could never delete, even after the horrible things he said. It still appears as I look for other contacts in my phone and I always pause, tempted to call him, tempted to hear his voice — but I never do. Even now, the urge to message him and congratulate him on his milestone is overwhelming, but I know I can’t. It’s not good for me and would not achieve anything but more heartbreak.
Everyone bottles emotions up in one way or another, but even bottles get full sometimes. This is my limit. This is my overflow. I hope from this I can let it all go. Start fresh and truly begin on my adventurous resolution.”