A day ago, I was in a relationship. A relationship that I once believed was going to last. Where I went to sleep thinking about the future, about how bright it would be compared to the bleakness and uncertainty of the world I know. Where I gave everything I had to make it work, because I thought eventually he would give some of it back to me. And when that “eventually” came, I was balled up in my room, water leaking from my eyes and love leaking from my heart.
Waking up from a dream you thought you would enjoy is hard. One minute, you are happily nestled in your bed, and the next, a short, angry dentist is telling you that he has to remove every tooth (my worst fear tbh). Sometimes the biggest sources of your unhappiness come from the things you never expected, and at very unexpected times. And when that happens, it becomes hard to let go of the nightmare you never thought was there. Long story short, I was unhappy in my relationship, but it took a long time for me to realize. That wake up call, unfortunately, took the form of a very sweet guy named Nathan. After almost cheating on my then-boyfriend, it all came to me. I wanted someone who was going to be able to spend time with me. He could. I wanted someone to like me just for who I was. He did. Immediately after that breakthrough the next level of glass was broken: my boyfriend just wasn’t the boyfriend I wanted anymore.
So I called him. Told him how I felt. Naturally, he remained silent on the other end as I calmly explained that I was unhappy. That it just wasn’t working for me anymore. Said goodbye. Pushed the goddamn END CALL button, watched his picture fade away from my phone as quickly as it had came. And then I opened my messages and texted Nathan, who I had shoved my phone at the night before. We had a kickass conversation, and worrying about if my ex was okay turned into thinking about someone I had literally met two days ago. But it seemed right. It still does.
When something ends and then you think something is beginning, you get a little anxious for whatever that is to start. But what if it never happens? What if ripping out a piece of your own soul was for nothing, and now there is an emptiness that you can’t quite fill? The kind of emptiness that makes you keel over at the sound of a name. Or a guitar chord you rocked yourself to sleep with. I guess it takes time for that emptiness to be filled, with a better glue job each time it’s repaired. And you can’t always tell which repairman will do a better job. But you just have to keep on with crazy streaks, with falling and getting up, with finding that person that makes things like this seem like it was something belonging to a past life.