It had the potential to fully deflate me, to cause me to spiral out of control, growing more and more angry with each passing breath. But as I stood on the precipice I realized that this time, I had a choice, that I was no longer the overly needy twenty-something-year-old. I was more prepared this time around. “It’s finally over,” I told my husband of the now defunct attempt at having an ex-boyfriend be in my life. True to his character, and as he’d done with every other false ending, he lifted my hand and kissed it. “You’ve still got me.”

I know I take him for granted, annoyed at times for the things that I cannot and maybe should not attempt to change. In this, he allowed me a wide girth. I took it, relished it, allowed conversations and thoughts to linger like a long-lost but not forgotten fragrance. I knew that I couldn’t relive the past, I couldn’t rewrite its story but I had hoped for another ending, a happy one. Maybe through friendship, we could find what we were truly meant to be. I wanted that friendship, that familiar connection. I even craved it. It’s sweet nectar seeming to be well within reach. I was wrong. I showed all my cards and left with nothing. Still, I accept the blame that is my own. Misguided missteps resulting in gut wrenching sadness.

Exes are exes for a reason. I always believed that and unlike those who are able to be friendly with an ex, that just wasn’t me. In this, I tried to change, tried to expand my horizons and be more accepting, more open. In my adult naiveté, I ignored the excruciating pain of the past, allowed it to wash over me, to change, to erase some aspects of my memory. However, at its climatic end, the pain returned, I realized that I had allowed myself to be lifted into the clouds, not knowing how high or how dangerous that ascent would be.

When you love someone, even an ex, it doesn’t just go away. In my case, it remains dormant until reignited. This particular ex was like my playing with fire. The excitement, the allure, the heat, the passion. So mesmerized was I that all logic fled my mind. I was that girl again, wanting a boy to like me. This person got me in ways no one else had. It was like he could comfortably walk barefoot through my mind and I felt incapable of keeping him out. It happened again, chasing it down the rabbit hole and again getting stuck.

This time was different. I didn’t have to be completely down for the count. And I didn’t have to leave the state to learn this lesson (inside joke). Sure, I’ll struggle for some time to get my bearings again, to brush myself off and to find my confidence again, but I’m sure I will. This time it was final. No going back. No future with him as my friend, just one permanently without him. I struggle as I think, now almost 1am, the reality sinking in. I chose this. This was my decision, letting go. What do I do now with those feelings? How do I more neatly pack away his box in my mind while fully allowing myself to grieve and to grow from our reconnecting?

Our reconnection brought with it a surge of creativity. I wrote more, read more, loved more. I was reminded of how greatly I love and how foolish it can be to do so so freely. We’re never too old to learn and even when those lessons smack you over the head, again and again, still, I rise.

One Last Goodbye

Why couldn’t you just say it,
Three simple words.
Do I repulse you?
Just the lust – nothing more.

I’m angry that,
I wasn’t stronger.
I’m furious that,
I’ll love you longer.

“All’s well that ends well,”
Some bullshit line.
Do you know its meaning?
Are you so blind?

I put myself out there,
Ignoring the risk.
What did I think would happen?
That it’d all end in bliss?

I didn’t want forever,
Just an understanding of how,
I continued to love you,
Back then and still now.

I thought that you’d say it,
You’d stop being coy.
I should’ve known better,
I was in love with a boy.

You know how to get me,
Like no other before.
You are my Napalm,
And I, just your whore.