the way we used to be.
An ex friend once told me something that I’d never forget.
“I don’t think you’ll be able to go back to Europe without him.”
At first, I couldn’t properly process her words. — I wasn’t sure of what she meant. But then she added, “Like, without him following you. I don’t think you can go back without him being there in the back of your mind.”
I knew she was right. I was constantly yearning for a version of someone who no longer wanted me. Someone I wanted so desperately, but couldn’t have. Her words lingered on me like the smell of cigarette smoke.
I knew that he would follow me everywhere no matter the circumstances. He was everywhere, even if he was nowhere. As much as I tried to avoid seeing him, I still looked for him in every person. He was still the first person I’d search for when entering crowded rooms.
As all my friends suggested, I tried to move on. Writing my feelings down and pouring my heart out, but it all still led back to him. Every page, every entry, every article I’ve written has always been about him. He’s become my muse, even when I don’t mean for him to be. It’s an unconscious feeling of clinging onto him that’s like a reflex I can’t control. Although we don’t talk anymore, writing makes me feel connected to him. As if typing all my thoughts onto my computer helps me to bring the thought of him back alive.
Our time together was brief. Yet I still miss him. It was a short time with a heavy feeling. I missed the familiarity he brought to me with his presence. Like I was going to be okay no matter what, as long as I had him beside me.
To this day, I don’t know if I miss him or if I just miss the idea of him. Maybe I missed the feeling of wanting someone so much until it consumed me, even if we weren’t meant to last. I can’t help, but to think about what we could’ve been. I’m stuck on the “what ifs” instead of facing reality.
Every time I see someone with his same dimples, I can’t help but to be reminded of him. The same dimples that was accompanied with a smile that could crush me. The same smile that he once looked at me with. He’s like a bad habit I wish I could unlearn.
Every time I hear his name, I turn around — even just for a split second — secretly hoping deep down, it’s him. If by some impossible miracle he was standing there, looking at me like he used to. But, it’s never him. It’s always just a stranger, serving as a reminder that what we had was just a brief memory and a short chapter.
Although it’s been months since I last spoke with him, I’m still slowly learning how to live without him. It’s a difficult task. Everything serves as a reminder that he’s still out there somewhere in this world, just not next to me. I’ve spent so long thinking about the short and passionate connection we’ve built, that I’ve been avoiding other people. Maybe that’s why it’s been so hard to let him go. I’m still looking for the same connection I had with him in other people.
Even though deep down I know I won’t find him again in other people, I hope one day by some miracle our paths will be able to cross again. For now, I’ll keep writing, keep remembering, and keep learning how to live without him.
Love, Liv :)
