It is 10 going on 11 years since I first met you.
I reminded you again yesterday that you were the first man, ever, to take me out on a date. I was 12 years old and sheltered all my life. It took so much courage for me to go meet a man from the internet alone.
But I did.
I don't ever regret that. I don't ever wish I hadn't met you.
For everything that meeting inspired, for everything that transpired, for everything that haunted me since. Despite spending the past 5 years ridden with guilt and torn daily by imaginary scenarios, I still thought you're the most beautiful thing to have happened to me.
I spoke to you after 5 years.
3, actually. We had that one encounter in 2013. But it didn't end well for me. It doesn't matter anyway; yesterday was the defining moment.
I finally managed to humanize you.
Perhaps it is the enormity for 5 years' of regret, guilt and shame. How do you compact all that into a ghost? But there you were and finally, it was taking shape. It took your form in the way you spoke, in the way you gestured, in every step you took.
You still had the same humor. You still had the same two-toothed smile. You still had the same wit. You still had the same extraordinary skill of story telling. You still had your height. You still had your tattoos. Everything as I remembered, and then some.
But I fell asleep fine last night.
I did wonder why. Why wasn't I breaking down? Why isn't my world folding onto itself knowing that all you think of me is 30%? Why isn't everything I touch bursting into shreds from the sheer understanding that I have spent the past 5 years guilt-ridden for nothing?
I was fine.
I woke up, went to school, went for Bel's graduation. We discussed you briefly; I joked that in a nutshell, talking to you made me fantasize about drinking till I pass out this weekend. I didn't tell her more.
I held onto everything you said that rung in my ears. I held onto everything I felt that hadn't processed yet. I held onto everything that my world still stood for. I took a bus home. I plugged in my earpiece. I was fine.
And then my playlist went to hell.
沒關係妳也不用給我機會
反正我還有一生可以浪費
我就是剩這麼一點點倔 稱得上 我的優點
沒關係妳也不用對我慚愧
也許我根本喜歡被妳浪費
隨便妳今天拼命愛上誰 我都會 坦然面對
即使要我跟妳再耗個十年 無所謂
I felt my face scrunch. I knew it was coming. Everything I hadn't processed yesterday came vehemently and venomously to surface. The screaming in my head got shriller and shriller. I quickened my pace and finally, finally, finally, fell into the comfort of my room.
And I shattered.
Everything.
Everything.
Everything fell apart.
(In my mind's eye, there is a little voice at the corner, leaning against a wall while it witnesses me cry my fucking heart out. It raises an impressed eyebrow, commenting that it has been a while since I've been this miserable. A little misery does everyone good. It slicks off and lets me wallow in my pain.)
I didn't just break down for the 23 year old me. No. I am crying for the 18 year old Nicole who didn't know better, who picked you to share her life with. For the 19 year old Nicole who built a life with you then devastated it with a touch. For the 20 year old Nicole who still hasn't fully realized she's lost you forever. For the 21 year old Nicole who refused to be happy and sunk herself deeper into her misery. For the 22 year old Nicole who was finally recovering.
And then, for the 23 year old Nicole who just spoke to you again.
For the 23 year old Nicole who disappointed them all.
I needed to talk to someone.
And of all the people I could've chosen,
I chose my boyfriend.
I chose my boyfriend to talk to about the man who was there, in and out of my life since I was 12. I chose my boyfriend to talk to about the man I always thought I'd end up with. I chose my boyfriend to talk to about the man I knew was ideal for me in every way, who I broke in half.
And in talking to him, my realization set in.
I accept it, H.
I accept that it's been 5 years, that shark attack victims have a faster recovery rate than I do, I should move the fuck on already. I should forgive myself, I should forget about you, I should live with myself now.
It's just, I knew.
I knew that yesterday was the final closure.
I am allowed to be sad. I have known you for so long. I am allowed to be sad for the 12 year old me, for the 13 year old me, for all the years in between where I saw your MSN nicknames in all its varieties, thinking what a cool dude you were. I am allowed to be sad for the years in between where I finally met you again and for when we fell in love. I am allowed to be sad for the years since where I spend my days in guilt-ridden haze.
I still remember how much I wanted to leave you. I remember at that point. I left, and came back, and left, and came back, and left. But when I really lost you, and I was so confused. Is this it? Aren't you the man I'm always supposed to come home to?
But I accept it.
I accept that I took you and broke you and no matter how much I want you back, you are done. I accept I flushed 11 years down the toilet. I accept that at the point where I cheated on you, I made the choice to choose whatshisface in exchange for 7 years. I accept it.
I just.
I just always thought it'd be you.
But there you are, talking about your girlfriend as if she puts all the stars in your skies. But there you are, the slight shift in your voice for the gentler as you spoke about how you loved the way she dressed. And that's how I knew you were fine. And that's how I knew you were happily in love.
Because that's how you used to talk about me.
You are no longer the man I broke so many years also. You are strong and you are in love now. You are humanized. You weren't a concept of guilt and shame and misery anymore.
I used to be so convinced that only you could love me as deeply as you did. That no one else could ever match your depths of love for me. That no one else could ever try as hard as you did.
It was so lovely to be loved by you.
Every thought in my mind is poisonous and manifesting into the darkness. Every breath I take is leaving a jagged trail down my throat. I am in a world of pain, and I don't even know if it's over you. Is it over the wasted years? Is it over my regrets?
But it doesn't matter.
Because you are happy now.
I asked you please. I asked you to please help me imagine a scenario where we broke up naturally. Without all my cheatings. Without all the pain I dealt you. Where I did all the girlfriending right. You raised my temper and your eventual lack of interest as possible factors.
It was so lovely.
It was so lovely to know we could've ended naturally.
We feel responsible for the people we damaged. It would be impossible and inhumane otherwise.
For a while I thought if I stayed, if I did everything right, maybe we would've been happy. But it's a moot point because I never would've changed if I stayed, just as you never would've grown. I've come a long way from being the 19 year old drop out who didn't have a direction in life. I like the me now. I can't imagine being otherwise.
I fixed everything else. I fixed my career, I fixed my studies, I fixed my family and friends, I fixed everything else.
You were the last piece of the puzzle.
I couldn't fix us.
And I never can.
I'm just so, so sorry that you did so much for me and I never paid it back. I'm just so, so sorry that you did so much for me and I paid it back in pain. I'm so sorry. I still am. I wish I could do something. I still do.
But I guess the best thing I can do for you is to not try anymore.
Thank you for everything.
Be happy always.
