A TEXT ABOUT A SPECTRUM & LOOKING IN THE SAME DIRECTION

First of all, I hope you never meet a boy who feels exactly like you because it’s simultaneously the most live-giving & devastating thing I’ve ever experienced. It’s like how sometimes you look in the mirror & you hate yourself & other times you’re like “oh snap I look good”.

Second of all, I think I’m just frustrated with myself for not being able to truly articulate how I feel because I don’t want to feel anything. It’s confusing because I want to be with him, but I also absolutely do not want to be with him & I find myself living in the space of not knowing what I want, but wanting him to want the same thing as me. How can I expect someone to feel the same as me if I don’t even know what I’m feeling half the time? If you try to convince me I should be with him, I’ll convince you why I shouldn’t be & if you tell me I shouldn’t be with him, I’ll convince you why we belong together. It’s like I can’t just let myself pick a side because I hate both of the options. & then I’m like where is God in this? Where is God in the perfect situation with bad timing? Where is God in the friendships that feel so much more than friendships, but aren’t relationships? Does that just mean it’s not the perfect situation? Why do I always stop myself from fully loving someone?

Anyway, our worlds are just so different. I feel like the only way I can actually visualize “us” (whatever that is) is by thinking of ourselves on a spectrum. If we were on a spectrum, we’d in the middle, linking arms, back to back. Like holding on to each other, but looking in opposite directions. & it’s great that we keep holding on to each other, but it’s confusing because every once in awhile I turn around to face him & he turns around to face me, but ultimately, we’re never looking the same way & I don’t think we ever will. & if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that love is not looking at each other, it’s looking in the same direction.

had you asked me a year ago

if asked me a year ago, / “what are your post grad plans” / I would’ve thought of him

I would’ve sworn I’d be moving to a new city / & finding a new job / & making new friends / just to be with him again... / if you asked me a year ago

we talked the other week / I asked him how he likes his new city / & his new job / & his new friends / (even though none of it feels so new anymore)

after he answered, he asked me the question people always want the answer to but never want to ask: / “what are your post grad plans”

& I told him about my future he’s not a part of

& he said / you should move here, to my city / you can get a new job / & meet all my new friends. / you can be with me again

but I reminded him, / this is not a year ago

but if it was

I would’ve dropped everything / I would’ve said yes & followed him anywhere / my postgrad plan was never me, / it was it was always us

I would’ve gone to any city / & gotten any job / & made new friends

I would’ve done anything / if he asked me a year ago

MISSING ME, TOO

One of the more magical moments of my life was over FaceTime when I looked through my phone screen into his eyes & told him about the exact moment he broke my heart (while I was telling him all the different ways he is, in fact, a jerk).

There was quite a bit leading up to it. It had truly started months before, but we found ourselves standing in my driveway on a Friday afternoon in February. He had stopped by my house on his way home to pick up something I had borrowed & halfway through our probably mundane or average conversation he started telling me how happy I make him & how he can always count on that feeling with me. My heart fluttered.

& even though I wanted him to stay longer (or forever), he left my house for a weekend away with a girl.

(That’s not when my heart broke.)

After him leaving & getting a text from my ex & being ridiculously sick (I think it was COVID before COVID was pandemic level bad) & breaking my sobriety for trivial reasons (being sad) & a few mental breakdowns, I found myself in my car on Sunday night after 8 pm service crying about how frustrating God can be. I didn’t want a text from my ex, I regretted drinking on Friday night, & I wished he hadn’t left on Friday afternoon. I sat in my car, crying, wishing life was different

When this boy who didn’t stay texted me:

“ I miss you”.

I saw the familiar shape of his name on my phone & my heart dropped. My terrible weekend was mostly unrelated to him, but truthfully he made it worse by simply existing the way he does & I was mad at him.

(That’s not when my heart broke, either.)

I was mad he didn’t talk to me all day Saturday just to text me “can you tell your grandma happy birthday for me” because he knew how much it would mean to me (what a particular type of torture).

I was mad he took a girl to my favorite place on earth without thinking twice & I was mad he even left with her at all.

I was mad it was March again & I found myself, yet again, hung up on a guy who loves me (or doesn’t) in all the wrong ways. I sat in my car & wanted to scream.

I wanted to scream & cry & yell at him for moving on. I wanted him to drive straight to my house, break the door down, & tell me he didn’t like her. I wanted him to hold me like he used to & say that it’s me.

But instead of knocking down my door, he called me after he got home & we talked for an hour before we decided we could probably talk forever, but shouldn’t because it was getting late. He sent me pictures from his weekend & I pretended like everything was fine between us when, in reality, I was holding back tears on the other end.

Right before he hung up he told me, again, how much he missed me even though it had only been two days.

& I felt my heart break.

Because even though I missed him, too,

I didn’t want him to.

Because knowing he spent an entire weekend with her, but still missed me, hurt more than knowing he didn’t miss me at all. Because knowing he could think about me when he’s with her, but still choose to be with her, hurt more than not missing me at all. Because knowing I was here all weekend missing him wondering if he was missing me hurt way, way less than knowing I was right.

He was with her

& missing me, too.

We got off the phone & I proceeded to cry in my kitchen for an hour about the exes who text you like it’s nothing & the boys you wish you could love better, but can’t.