when it’s over

September 11, 2014

We are just different.  And maybe after all the drama I was used to, I was just grateful for some silence, some quiet.  The absence of war doesn’t necessarily mean peace.  Maybe I didn’t look close enough at the differences like I should have and just settled in this space of not quit there but meh… I guess it’s ok.  When I started to tell myself that maybe this is how it is.  People are different and it should be ok.  I didn’t think that I didn’t tell him everything in my mind and in my heart.  That sometimes putting on a smile was something I learnt to just do without really meaning it.  Maybe I didn’t really look into those moments of panic when I was with him.  Those moments I knew this isn’t how it should be, but let him hold me in the night and so I told myself it was ok.  When I couldn’t really reach him and I didn’t try too hard to.  The many many times I asked him if he really thought we would be ok because we were just so very different.  When I tried to think of the future and all I could think of was silence and different lives in the same house.  When I told myself just because it wasn’t earth shattering emotion, we just skipped some steps because we were meant to be like this.  I can’t believe I told myself that because it is supposed to be earth shattering!  There shouldn’t be awkward silences in car rides to places.  There shouldn’t be awkward – reach for my phone silences in restaurants.  Because love should be endless conversations and not wanting to fall asleep because you don’t want to miss out on being awake with them.  It should be wanting to spend every breathing moment with them.  It wasn’t that.  It shouldn’t be that online conversations are so much better than in person conversations and maybe I will miss the “good morning baby” and all the nice things he said in my inboxes but there isn’t much to remember by way of what he actually did.  Maybe I don’t want to be with the smoker who does nothing but work, watch football and movies on hangover Sundays because that’s what Sundays is about – hangovers.  Maybe I want to be with someone who sweeps me off my feet and butterflies are the only things I can feel on my walking on air days.  There were no butterflies really.  There was placidness, there was silence.  There was disquiet and there was the nagging voice saying maybe this shouldn’t be this way and there was me trying not to listen to that voice.  I want to miss him.  I really do, but I don’t really.  I don’t know why I am sad, maybe it’s just for the loss of something, but it’s not that – I can’t breathe type of sadness.  Or maybe it’s because I know I settled for so long and I wonder if I will ever find someone I can spend endless hours talking to and not settling for someone just because he is there.  It has to be mad passionate love they say, because life is too short for mediocre love.  That little voice that kept nudging me saying something is wrong is always right.  I should listen more to my little voice.  


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