Wednesday, August 6, 2008

My Heart And I Have Decided To End It All

I don’t like posting things that are too personal, but I just can’t take it anymore. It’s like no matter how fast I run, my past just keeps catching up to me. I fucking hate it. I really do.

Anyways, the story goes like this: His name was Andrew, and I worked with him. I remember the first time I met him, it was outside, I was biking home, and he dropped a Napoleon Dynamite reference. I hated the movie, but I laughed anyways, because he was really cute. But I couldn’t do anything. I was seventeen, just got off my first crush, and was recovering from the accompanying anorexia. I didn’t want to put myself through it again. I figured it would be for the best if I just avoided him. I was fucking poison. I didn’t deserve him. He was better off without me.

I guess it worked. He thought I was just quiet, and I pretended like I didn’t feel anything for him.

Then one day, I was finishing up so I could go home when I heard a co-worker say that Andrew was quitting. I didn’t know what was going on, but all of a sudden, it was like I was drowning. Everything was moving like it was underwater, I couldn’t breathe, and my chest felt like it had just collapsed on itself.

I went into denial. He couldn’t be leaving. But he did. On the last day, I remember getting out of the shower before work, looking in the mirror, and just melting. I pulled myself together for work, put on the happy face, pretended everything was fine, when in fact, everything was not fine, and I refused to understand why.
The one thing I haven’t forgiven myself for was that I let him leave, and he never knew how I felt. I didn’t even say goodbye. I couldn’t. I couldn’t let myself watch him go, because I knew I wouldn’t survive it. He put on his jacket walked out the door, and all I could think was “just look away, just look away, just look away”. And that door. That fucking door. It closed with this loud metallic bang, and I swear to God, my heart just fell down from its usual place and plummeted down.
The worst part is I couldn’t quit my job. I was stuck there, and every day, I’m reminded of what I had to let go.

That night I got home, I cried myself to sleep. I couldn’t hold it in. I cried, and I prayed that he would forget me. Forget that I ever existed. Every night that week, I dreamed that he came back, and every time I woke up, I felt like I was forcing myself to live.

It’s been three months since then. I thought I was over him. Sometimes I’ll have a dream about him, but I’ve learned to deal with it. He had his life, I had mine. They weren’t meant to be intertwined. But last night, I went to a party at my friend’s house. I figured it would be a good excuse to drink. I was there for a while, feeling alright, and then he walked in.

I never thought I would have to go through the underwater thing again. But I did. All of a sudden, everything I tried to run from found me. I left without a word. I haven’t slept all night. I can’t, because I know if I go to sleep, I’ll see him, and it’ll kill me. I’ve been trying to tell myself that it wasn’t him, but I know I’m full of shit.

I guess the one thing you’re wondering is, did I love him. I hope not. Because if I did, and I let him go, I don’t think I’d be able to live with myself.

Anyways, sorry to post this.

1 comment:

David said...

I seem to always stumble on the catharsis of others when my own skin needs to be shed. And so I'll reply.

"Heart" woes are never comparable and rarely comforting, but sometimes it's helpful to know you aren't alone... so I'll summarize.

We met at a bar. I held his hand on our second date and kissed him under a streetlamp as I walked him to the subway. We dated for two and a half years. I asked him to "marry" me. He told me he didn't think he was ready. We ended it. My world exploded.

It's been five months, and I'm still reminded of him everywhere I go by a song or a smell or the sight of a lonely pillow where a tussled blonde head used to rest... they all tongue the wound, opening it freshly as though it all ended yesterday.

But despite it all, I'm still here. I don't know if you ever really get over love, but I do know that the next time it comes around, I'll be ready. And based on what you've written, I think you will be too. Don't run from the pain. Learn from it. It's the best advice I can give, however trite it may sound.