Letting Go

I'm having a hard time piecing my thoughts together to write this all out, and I'm not sure where to begin exactly. I guess I'll start with the obvious: There's a guy, and I want him to feel as much for me as I do him. I wouldn't say I love him, that's not something I give out easily, but what I feel seems to be a lot more than what he does.

It started out casually, but escalated to more as we both realized we had feelings for each other. Things were great for a while. Fun, easy, and uncomplicated. I'd hear from our friends how he would tell cute stories about us and smile when my name came up. But the ease didn't last long enough. Things got messy. I got messy. I began falling into a depressive state and past scars began to reopen, both literally and figuratively. I started clinging to him a little more, unintentionally. He was a light part of my quickly darkening existence, and I just wanted to forget the bad things and be with him. And when I wasn't sure he was going to stick around, I got scared and insecure. I began drinking more excessively, and I am a sloppy drunk. It was after one particularly drunk dial that things started really falling apart. After a teary confession of how much I liked him, a plea for him not to hurt me, and the pressuring question of "Where are we going with this?" I felt him pull away more than ever.

I saw him the following day, and he was a little distant. After avoiding him for most of the day, he came to talk to me before he left, for maybe 15 minutes. We spoke a little more that night, he was distant, unsurprisingly. But what did surprise me is the complete lack of contact for the rest of the week. I was too insecure to text or call him first, and then I later saw he deleted his facebook as well. I just took it all so personally. And it hurt. After a week went by, I saw him again, and we made small talk. We didn't discuss the fact that he hadn't spoken to me in a week and without any word or real indication, decided to just drop me like I meant absolutely nothing to him. Regardless of our relationship status, or lack thereof, he knew what he did would, and did, hurt me.

But we didn't talk about that.

Again, another week went by without any contact, but I was prepared for it this time. I still had a pitiful shred of hope every time my phone would vibrate, and my stomach would still lurch if I saw someone resembling him in public. I'd still mentally prepare myself for seeing him since we do share the same group of friends. I'd still fall asleep to the happy memories we shared before everything fell apart.
And during this emotionally straining time for me, my ex began talking to me more. And I wasn't opposed to the attention. It didn't take much to convince me to go over to his house. Drinks were poured and I craved a distraction so much. One thing led to another, and we ended up fooling around a little. My thoughts were on the man who'd hurt me and seemingly felt nothing towards doing so rather than the guy I was with, and it didn't feel right. I put a stop to his advances and left, somewhat dramatically, trapped tears blurring my vision as I drove home.

And then there was a party.

I'd seen him at this house before, so I figured it was likely I'd see him that night. So I prepared myself with a few drinks. I was on both my second and third by the time he showed up, a different drink in each hand. By the time he was leaving, I'd had a few shots, mixed drinks, and a few beers. So of course, this was the perfect time for me to talk to him.

I didn't plan on talking to him for long. I needed a lighter, and I knew he'd have one. We ended up talking for a little, about nothing of any importance. Small talk, catching up on each other's lives. I missed him. Talking to him, I missed how we used to be. I missed the easiness and happiness. I hated him for taking away one of the few good things in my life. I wanted to jump his bones, because I had forgotten how attracted I was to him. I settled for hugging him, telling him I get affectionate when I'm drunk.

"I know," he said, placating me.

"I want to kiss you now," I said, knowing it was a bad idea.

He bent down, again just appeasing me I'm sure. I kissed him for a few seconds before he pulled away.

"What all have you had to drink?" he asked, to my disappointment. Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for.

"A bit of everything," I admitted.

"Tastes like it," he mumbled. "I think I'm getting drunk."

He went back inside to deliver keys to one of our friends, when I decided to stay outside and talk to a friend on the porch. A minute or so later, he reemerged and walked to his car without so much as a glance my way.

And I knew it was all over.

I'd lied to myself, just a little. I would tell myself I was just giving him space. That he needed to think. But I'm pretty sure he did think, a while ago, and came to a conclusion. It's just not one he wants to discuss.

I still wallow in my sadness a little. I still listen to his music, a form of self torture. I listen to the artists we've seen live, and look at old pictures in my phone. And I will myself to fall back asleep into the same dream when I wake up from one starring him.

I liked him a lot. I opened up to him after being hurt by so many people in my life. And yeah, it's going to take some time to get over him. It's going to be hard seeing him with friends and knowing I don't have any sort of connection with him anymore. But I know time will fade the pain, and that I'll find someone else who interests me one day. It feels impossible now, but I've just got to wait it out. And try to let go.
IvyV IvyV
22-25, F
Dec 15, 2012