Us

I met a very interesting girl that Tuesday. It was my first time there and we started talking at random to soon realize we had a good chemistry. I wanted to see her again, but time passed and that started to seem impossible.

Sex with her at first was really weird. Though, we had a connection our first date, and it was enough to make us connect bed-wise as well. Sex wasn’t weird anymore. It was the best I’ve ever had.

I fell in love with her. I could only tell when I met her again in Buenos Aires, after she left Chile to go back home. Sometimes we looked into each others eyes and I was so immensely happy that some tears would drop from my eyes. Tears of joy.

It was impossible. Our relationship was doomed after she left. We tried to keep it alive, but the distance, the doubts, the suffering; all led to the end. She broke up with me from a hotel in Vietnam. She broke me.

Coming back from the darkness was hard. I met other women, but never felt a connection. Sex was just a distraction, but never really enjoyed it. She was in my head all the time. I even got to the point when I couldn’t take it anymore and would write her, just to get it out of my system. A cry for help. Calling out her heart. All I got back was rejection, if I ever got an answer.

Months passed and my heart healed. She was a ghost that kept hunting me, but it hurt less. Until I met another girl. No more darkness.

I spent a week with the new girl, and she left promising she’d return. I didn’t think about my old love anymore. There was a new one taking form in my heart. Still, times would come in which a little sting would bother me. “What if she comes back?” I thought. I then immediately would shake that off my head. It was impossible.

To finally move on, I made something that seemed stupid but necessary. I wrote the old girl an email entitled “Last chance.” Just got my last deepest thoughts about her out of my head and into words. Wasn’t expecting for an answer. Against all odds, I got it.

She was afraid. Ever since she felt our connection the first time, she was terrified by the idea of feeling something profound for me. It was impossible. But she felt it and although she broke up with me and hid that feeling away, it never faded out. Reading my last email made her realize that, but it was too late. I had already moved on.

She confessed she still loved me. I did the same. But when the new girl asked me if she could come in a few days, I said yes. I was afraid. I was hurt. “Is she coming back for good or will she leave me behind again?” I thought every time I talked to old girl.

New girl lived with me for a month. She became my friend and lover. At some points I felt traces of a love that could have been and would doubt my choice. Because I kept in contact with the old girl the whole time. She knew almost everything, except for my ever changing feelings. Didn’t want to lose any of them.

In the end, love came through. I couldn’t wait or lie any longer. A few days before the new girl was to leave, I told her everything. I had always show my emotional distance and warned her about it, but my doubts and the way I was to her led her to get deeper feelings anyway. She was sad and felt stupid after my confession. I felt like a heartless monster, but I had made my decision. I loved the other girl. Always did.

Now the hard part of the story begins. The new girl is gone, but the wound is very fresh in the old girls heart. I fucked up. I fucked things up big time, but can’t see another way in how things would have gone if it wasn’t like this. Explaining it will be my mission. Explaining myself and rebuilding our story, her trust. Forgive her for all she made me suffer, and forgive myself for hurting her back.

I am human. Full of imperfection, insecurities, weakness. I have fallen and taken ages to get back on my feet again. I have made mistakes. So has she. Now we are both standing next to the other. We both fucked up in our time, yet here we are, looking forward to meet again. “It was impossible” we thought, but we chose to love, we chose each other. This is/was/will be our story. The story of us.

Us.

2 Comments

  1. :) What a story.
    I got captivated, and felt a little of your pain right in my heart. I love this story.
    Could you write a book about it, you’re a good storyteller. And, I’m a poet, it seems beautiful, your story. It is.

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