Funny how it can all change from one moment to the next.
I still can’t believe how happy I was… then. There’s a line now. A big fat line that divides everything into ‘before’ and ‘after’, ‘then’ and ‘now’. A line that spells disaster and taunts you with its blurriness. You wonder if that moment that you’ve picked out was actually the moment. Or whether it had been coming all along and you had been so deliriously happy that hadn’t wanted to see it there. Strange how happiness can blind you, set you up to fall. How cruel is that?
And now after all the deliberations, after all the pushing and pulling and running away and running back only to run away again, it’s over. Just one, ugly word: over. And there’s no one there to lash out at when all the rage boiling under the surface finally spills over and burns. No one to cry to when you feel so devastated you can’t breathe. No one to hear the words that keep throbbing behind your eyes, stinging tears out of them. “I miss you”.
I’m not alone, I tell myself. I have so many friends who will be there for me the second I need to vent, to coax me away from that third and forth candy bar, to tell me he was evil and that I’m better off. To say all the right things.
But what do you do when there’s no right thing to say? What happens when he’s not evil? What happens when there’s no one to blame? What happens when all you’re left with is an incredible sadness that crawls into your stomach and sits there, eating away at your insides till you want to beg it to stop? What happens when there are no reasons, when no one did anything wrong, when everything was right, right up until… it wasn’t?
I’ll move on, I tell myself. There are plenty of possibilities around. There’s one on the horizon already, one I know is dangerous and will be no good for me. Maybe hurt is like a drug and once you get a taste, you want more, you want to know how much you can take until you just stop existing. I’m surprised it hasn’t happened to me yet. Perhaps I’m stronger than I thought. What a laugh: I have never felt less strong in my life. Am I a masochist? Maybe. This other one, dangerous, sexy, dangerous – maybe just a taste, although I know a taste will probably destroy me.
I shake my head. Of course I wouldn’t do anything that stupid. I think. But all it takes it a moment. And everything can change.
Oh God anything to forget. Just for a little while. Forget the happiness, the terrible moment when everything changed, the anger, the jealousy, the hate, the overwhelming love, the absolute finality of the ending, the torture of looking towards another day, another second without him?
None of this is new. It’s new to me, of course, but heartbreak has been spoken of countless times and in countless ways. Most people have felt this pain, but I’m convinced mine must be greater, somehow different, somehow worse. It’s all so silly and insignificant in the grand scheme of things. When you put things into perspective, your moment was no moment at all.
But the hurt is so real. So immediate. So inescapable.
The strangest thing about all this, though, is that there’s no regret. I don’t believe in regret. I loved someone and it was exhilarating and fantastic… nothing compares. The pain I feel now, in all its breathtaking magnitude is somehow a confirmation of how special it was. It must have been, if it aches so much just knowing that it’s over. No. There’s no regret. Not even a trace.
Then it occurs to me.
Maybe this is my moment. The one I can cling to when it all gets a little to much to bear again. Maybe this is it.
The moment when I realize that eventually, I’ll be okay.