The Decadence Chronicle. Episode 124: Communication

Is this really happening? I still look for her naked skin in my bed at night and make room in my table, as if she was going to eat breakfast with me, as we used to. My mind cannot process her absence, and my body can’t fathom she’s not here anymore. This singleness feels fake. I can’t look at any other woman, because it feels wrong, like if I were cheating. I fucking love her. I only want her. I only desire her. I can’t be with anyone else, because the mere thought of it hurts. For the first time in my life, I won’t fuck the pain away. I just can’t. I just won’t.

We promised to see this, us, through to the bitter end. I know and I’m fully aware that a breakup is, by definition, the end of a relationship. But this particular breakup doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t make any sense. Because I have broken up before, and every time I’ve been the “bad guy.” When I decided to pull the trigger and finish off those relationships, I was always certain of my decision. So certain, that all I could feel afterwards was relief. But now, and for the last three days, there’s no relief. Only suffering, doubt and a profound feeling of loss that won’t go away, but only grow with every passing second.

I listened to C’s last voice message again, after another night of painful insomnia. Everything she said resonates with the conclusions I’ve got to in these endless days and nights. I can clearly see, without the veil of anger, that I had denied our communication. I shut down our dialog and refused to listen and to getting to any sort of agreement. I closed the roads to a common ground, to understanding, to forgiving. I became emotionally abusive, gaslighting… and destructive.

The irony in all this is that now, now that I finally get it, communication is blocked, closed. Now that I have been humbled by all this sorrow, by the certainty of my wrongdoings and by remorse, I can’t say it. Not to her. And I would give anything, absolutely anything, to talk to her once more. To fix this.

I understand why she asked me to stay away, to not contact her. She doesn’t want to have a toxic “breakup/make up” relationship. Neither do I. If anything, this has been a wake up call. I hadn’t been happy in years, not until she came along. And it scared me. I didn’t want to lose this feeling, nor her. But I became too protective, too possessive and insecure. As if I didn’t believe I could be loved, or not as much and deep as she did. As she does.

Circumstances around us weren’t great. I suffered, because I couldn’t have her the way I wanted. I was hooked by this idea of perfection that we couldn’t live up too. Maybe I just held on to this unreal expectation because, in reality, I didn’t want a relationship. I was too afraid of being abandoned, or hurt. So I made it harder and harder for her to be with me, constantly testing her commitment, her love. But it was there all along, loud and clear, yet I resisted to see it and kept a safe distance.

Not anymore.

I had hit rock bottom a while ago, didn’t have anything else to lose. And then I met her. She picked me up and put me all the way up a new high. She made me understand and believe in love again but, most importantly, she gave me hope. And now, even though I have fallen from the very top and almost died on impact, even though I can feel the cold hard floor on my face, I still have hope. I know I can be better, and she makes me want to be better. I’m sure we can make things work. For the whole fucking world might be falling to pieces, and perhaps every single layer of reality is nothing but a hoax, but if there’s only one thing left in the universe that’s pure, honest and real, that’s our love. And I want to fight for it. For us.

If we could only talk…

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