maybethisishealing

[maybethisishealing]

10th of June

14.

Happy one-month break-up anniversary. You changed your profile picture. That seemed impossible for you to do when we were together. Then again, you often didn’t give in to my requests. I keep seeing your profile pop up when you’re active, and I know that you’re moving on. You talked to me often when we started dating, too. Funny how you could put in effort when we didn't know each other, but couldn't when we did. You’ve been fucking up my exams season, I don’t think you really care about that though. I’m exhausted, I’m tired of being tired. I’m tired of my emotions being caused by you. I have my French exam tomorrow, and after that I have a second date. I’m fine with failing my exam, and I’m excited about the date. I really shouldnät be up anymore, but my mind keeps circling and twirling and bouncing back to you. Can’t you leave me alone? Let go of this rubbery hold you have on me. Stop making me snap back to you when I get further away (or call me — I don’t mind being a bit pathetic in the privacy of this). I hate you for hurting me, and I hate myself for caring about you.

15.

I wrote a letter to myself, not to you. According to chat (it’s a surprisingly good therapist), that should help me be kinder to myself, help me let go of you. I still have so many questions. Why couldn’t you be better for me? Why couldn’t you show effort when we were together instead? I want you to hurt, even though that is childish of me. I want you to know you hurt me, and I want you to care about it. I want to get over my wants regarding you. At times, it feels like I am, but then I feel afraid of unfollowing you. Afraid of losing the last thread, the last peephole I have into your life. I want to do it this week, but I want to be petty. I want you to see my photos in Finland next week. I know you would see them, and I want you to see the ghost of me while visiting (your visit is crawling, peeking behind the corner). I hope you'll see an empty seat next to your family and think about how it was supposed to be for me. If I lose this connection, there's nothing left. Then there's your phone number and my memories, and what am I supposed to do with either of them? I hate that I hate parts of you. I hate you for hurting me, for not caring about it, for making me doubt myself. Now I’m scared that the more someone knows me, the less they'll love me. What if I let you in too close and the cracks turned into holes, and all the excitement deepness, just ended up drowning us? 

[maybethisishealing]

9th of june

13.

Tomorrow it’ll have been a month. I am doing so much better than I was before, but god, if I don’t hate you a bit. It’s the little things that get to me: the new profile picture after I teased you about it for months (and the girl so visible in it), my friends seeing you at uni, you finally deleting the photo of us, me telling my parents about the date I went on. I talked with a friend yesterday night, when it was hard, but then again, it was hard so often. I’m starting to think the good might’ve been so good, because the hard was so hard. Every time it got hard, I dug my fingers into the good parts, and when it was good, I was on a high. But you couldn’t give me stability. I tried so desperately to convince myself we were easy and good and perfect, but we were far from that. I’m making plans that you don't know about, that you’ll never know off - I'm still learning how I feel about that. I’m going to unfollow you this week, or at least I’m planning on doing that. I think I’m learning to hate you (even if sometimes it feels like lying).

[maybethisishealing]

31st of may

12.

I guess I was a liar. I was so sure I was getting over you; the dates, the one-night stands, the rationalization. I thought I had overcome all the hard parts, and then the old habits resurfaced. The first time I came home from a bar and didn’t call you. I desperately want to. I don’t know why, I even scheduled a date for next week. I was so good, so rational about the breakup, and now what? I feel like it's twirling down the drain. I know it hasn’t, but god if I don’t want anything more than to call you. I don’t even know if I want to call you or just want you. I just know that it used to be you, and now it isn’t. It’s a weird thing to get used to. I hate that you probably already got used to all the new normals, and they’re just hitting me now. I’m still learning to hate you.

[maybethisishealing]

29th of may

11.

I, weirdly enough, am not ashamed. The truth is, you didn’t play a factor in my choices or my actions. I regret hurting you (and your friendship), and I know I broke the view you have of me. I guess I’d even call my actions a bit hypocritical. He was fun, nice, and good-looking. I knew we’d have a good time, and I have needs, that you know. I wanted sex that hurt, I wanted the pain mixed in - he gave me that. I’m not in love with you anymore - how bizarre is that? I feel an ache for what was and what could have been, but I think this break-up was good. I lost a bit of who I was, and while that's in no way your fault, it's not something I want to happen. I loved you in the only way I knew how to, and that consumed me a bit too much. I adapted your view of me and stepped away from what you didn’t like. I learnt to like myself more when I knew you’d like me. 

I’m dealing with the break-up better than I thought I would. I know you don’t believe me to be that rational, but I do believe myself to be that. I know what I feel and why, and my small enamorment with psychology makes me search for the reasons behind everything, and beneath everything, I love myself more than I do you. A man should be an addition to my life, not my whole life. I think my faith in that has gotten me through a lot. I’m not sure if I’ll write to you again. I might? I don’t think I’ll ever learn to hate you. I think I’ll grow indifferent, though, in some ways I already am. I hope you’ll be happy. I hope you’ll love again, and this time, please let them fully in. Don’t cherry-pick the parts you want to show. Maybe one day I’ll even send you these. That would be my last goodbye. Let you rummage around my inner self for the last time.

[maybethisishealing]

23rd of may

10.

The pain has dulled into the background. It doesn't scream with the need for attention anymore. It doesn't pull itself out of me when the memory of you is forced against my face. (I didn’t cry at French class, I actually smiled.) I downloaded Tinder and set the age range to 23, I don’t want to risk seeing you. I don’t want you to hear of this. I still need your approval. I miss telling you about my worries, my achievements. I miss asking for your help. I need your help now, but you’re no longer here to help. That’s hard for me to understand. But I am a lot better than I was earlier, I guess time does really help. 

[maybethisishealing]

19th of may

9. 

I think I hate you a bit today. How dare you. How dare you tell me sweet nothings, touch me so softly, promise me everything, and break my heart? How dare you go out and have fun? How dare you not fall apart? How dare you still have this effect on me? I keep reloading my story viewers in hopes that you’d be there. Like, seeing me would remind you that you still love me. Like it’d make the dream I had last night real.

[maybethisishealing]

18th of may

8.

You posted a story for the first time since our breakup. It was weird to see that, weird to see you with your friends, at a party I knew you’d be at. I want you to tell me all about it, but I’m not yours anymore, and you’re not mine. I kept rewatching it and staring at your face, hoping, praying to see something meant just for me. I didn’t. Instead, I muted you. I won’t see anything from now on. You’ll see me, though, and I hope it pains you. This will help me heal, help me move on. I hope one day I’ll be strong enough to take it off. That one day I can look at you living your life and I’ll feel glad for you, but I’m not there yet.

[maybethisishealing]

17th of may

7.

It’s been a week now. 7 full days. It feels like a lifetime, and it’s still so raw. I spent the whole day with a friend, studying, watching Eurovision, and talking. It still felt like I spent the whole day with you. Everything reminds me of you. All the Norwegian flags, all the songs, all the hard subjects that you would’ve helped me with. I hate that I know your whole schedule for today; all your plans and ideas, all the spaces that you’re gonna fill. I want to call you, to text you. I want you to want me back. 

I’ve taken to scheduling my getting better, scheduling when I want to be over you. I didn’t think I’d have to do that yet. I made a list of things I want to do alone. Museums, galleries, tanning, hobbies. I think I’m going to start pole dancing, I have talked about it for years. I want to go on a date after coming back from Finland. I want to teach myself to trust again. Not every man will give up on me, on our relationship. That’s what I’m mad at you about.

Almost everyone in my life knows we’ve broken up now. I couldn’t not say what happened when people asked about my weekend. How could I lie and say it went well? How could I not tell them when they asked why it didn’t? At least I won't see most people during the summer. I’ll heal then, I’ll be okay.  

[maybethisishealing]

15th of may

5.

I saw a dream of you tonight. I dreamt of warmth and love. I dreamt of an ordinary life. We were working out together, rushing through our exercises and sets. We were meeting your family afterwards, and the time was running out, but we were in love. We had fun, we had joy.

6.

I had my second French class today. It was by your house, I stared at it before entering the building. Just a week ago, we joked about me being a stalker, lingering around you, now I run away the first chance I get. I feel anxious being there, my whole body shakes, and I make myself small. Like narrowing my shoulders could hide me from the pain of your memory. I cried in the bathroom before class and complained to my friends. Last night's dream still heavy on my mind, the hole you left behind feels fresh again. I spent the whole day avoiding the thought of you. Avoiding the need to send you photos of my new clothes. Avoiding the need to ask for help with my studying. Avoiding the need to ask you to hold me, just one last time.

[maybethisishealing]

11th of may

3.

Allow me to be mean for a minute, allow me to hurt. I hope when you celebrate your birthday in my hometown, surrounded by family, where I was supposed to be, you’re haunted by the thought of me. I hope you see me in every corner, sitting in cafes and trams. I hope that for a second, every person sounds like me. I hope all the streets make you think of me — I hope it tears you apart.

4.

I miss you. I miss your laugh, your hands, your warmth. I miss how you would pull me close, and I’d hear your heartbeat. I miss your scent and the way you’d look at me, all tender eyes and soft smiles. I miss how you’d grab hold of me and plant a kiss on my forehead. I miss how comfortable I was around you, how your home felt like my home, how I knew what each cabinet held.

[maybethisishealing]

10th of may

1. 

Time is standing still, but we’re moving. My hand in yours, my eyes staring ahead. You’re quiet, tired, but you look the same. I laugh, you wish to see my apartment. It’s been months since you last visited — in half an hour, it’ll feel like a blessing.

Last time you were here, you tried putting up my curtains with a broken drill. I cooked dinner and watched you work. You laughed and apologised. I didn’t care. The day was almost perfect.  A day before my birthday, and you’re holding me close. You’re waving goodbye while staring up at my window. You’re biking away, and I feel like I’m missing you already.

Now you’re standing in my entrance, holding me to your chest, pulling me back when I pull away. You’re lingering. You lay on my bed, pulling me closer. You’re saying words I don’t want to hear. Breaking promises, breaking me, breaking the silence.

I say that you love me, and that's enough; you’re quiet. The silence is dripping and dropping. The cracks are leaking. I’m crying and yelling. I grab your wrist, just for a moment, and then you’re gone. You’re gone. This is it, I think, the last time I’ll ever hold you. I’ve had you for 8 months, I’ve loved you for 4 months, and in 20 minutes, I lost you.

2.

Writing to you feels unnatural now. Suddenly, words that came easily feel messy or broken, as if I'm speaking to a stranger. Though that is far from what you are. You were family, the first man I learned to trust and opened up to — you know I’ve been hurt before. Talking to you used to be second nature, a text good night, a call of comfort. A hug, a touch, a hold so tight. And now? The very idea of you feels like it’d topple me over. I dread seeing your apartment, the cafe you loved, or even the campus I know you frequent. The memory of you suddenly became so painful when I thought I would have ages before losing you. How can I see who you were today as the man I knew? This is a letter you’ll never receive, but one I need to write. Our relationship wasn’t filled with fights, but god, I fought for it. I withstood every hit, every tear. I talked and talked, fixed and mended. I forgave and understood — did my best to be perfect.