Récits d'un amour compliqué

March 2023 (pt. 1)

it's not just a break up, it's also a mourning. it's a break up of what we were, of the funny relationship we had. but it's also very much a mourning of the possible us there could have been. it's saying goodbye to a past that sometimes caused pain, but brought emotions like only authors can. and it's saying never to a future that only appears to be bright and shiny.

every few couple of hours i just feel my eyes tearing up, no matter where or how, it just happens. when the thought of you crosses my mind, my heart falls into little pieces and i keep replaying our conversation in my head. hearing again the things you said, trying not to focus on the ways you showed me affection, and questioning every bit of sentence or action that you were saying or doing.

although i have a few more questions, i still, helplessly, hope that you would change, that how you feel about me would change, that maybe you'd see me like i see you. i just keep hoping this moment of open vulnerability, of complete nakedness like it has rarely been done in our short lives of 20 years, you would realize what you would miss out on, you would realize you have been limiting yourself on me. i, helplessly, keep hoping that it wasn't me, that i wasn't the problem.