March 29th 2020, 23:58
It’s almost midnight, and as I press play on another episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine on Netflix, I come to the realization that this is just avoiding to think about my feelings, the weight of my loss.
While I was debating with myself about publishing my last post or not, I looked at these fancy “live” pictures on my iPhone, that were stored as brief videos with sound; seconds of our story saved forever in the cloud.
As I see her face in my mind and listen to her voice in my head, I realize I truly loved her. So fucking much. I don’t wanna apologize anymore for how I feel, for what I’ve felt and for what I will probably continue to feel for a while, until I recover.
I’m glad I experienced her and us. I miss her.
When is the end “The end”?
For seven years straight, I kept my blog open for the world to see. “The world” being my family or friends, or whomever was stalking me at the moment, for whatever reason. But a month ago it got too pitiful to continue. For the first time in all these years, I decided to put an end to it. Maybe not a definitive pulling of the plug, but at least a pause to get my shit together.
I feel more stable now. The quarantine doesn’t weight so heavy on me, and my ankle is finally giving me a small break (to a certain extent, while still in a “work in progress” status.) So I reopened the gates to my existential innards. Timidly, I started a new project; my first column in Spanish in quite some time. But it wasn’t enough. I needed to explain myself somehow, to let go of this load within in a more visceral form, which is what I use English for. Then, a new post came around. Still, not good enough.
When is the end “The end”?
The last day of Easter, I finally dared to stalk my ex C. Unblocked her from all my social media and looked at whatever there was publicly available. I was dreading this moment. What would I find? How would I feel? But I overcame this fear and, after a few minutes, got cocky. So much, that I even went and checked her Linkedin profile, knowing full well that she’d get a notification of my intromission into her life. What would this trigger? What chain of events would this unfold?
When is the end “The end”?
I made chicken curry yesterday. As I gathered the ingredients, I chuckled. I remembered how C would always complain about the lack or spices and basic utensils in my kitchen. “She’d be so glad to see how everything is now,” I thought, lookin around my pantry. How ironic is it that we usually change whatever our partners complained about us just when we aren’t together anymore? Then we’ll go onto the next relationship with all these issues fixed, only to argue and complain about new, different shit. Silly, huh?
Undeniably, I won’t ever be the same after C. Shallow changes, like my new found passion for hiking and cooking, preceded much deeper ones. She helped me solidify my path, strengthen my beliefs and my character, and made me overcome my fear of commitment and intimate relationships. That’s why it’s tough to just leave it at that; diminishing our romance to a mere exchange of life lessons and memories, vanishing on a daily basis.
When I chose her, I really fucking did. Wholeheartedly. I guess I never unchose her after our breakup. And then, suddenly, I woke up this morning and realized it’s been three months since she’s been gone and I still feel she’s around.
C’s definitely read my blog a couple of days ago, though. I was hoping (I think I always did) that she would reach out at some point. But yeah, I’m positive that she read my latest post and didn’t feel like it after that. The total opposite, really. I went a couple of hours ago looking for her on Linkedin. Gone. Then on Facebook. Gone too. She blocked me everywhere. C didn’t need to write me at all. She just went by the saying “Actions speak louder than words” and blocked me out of her life completely. Message received.
When is the end “The end”? They can tell you “It’s over” a million times, and your stupid mind will tell you they are wrong. Now, though, I can say that this is clearly it. I don’t know why she was still reading my blog, or what was she looking to find there. Maybe a sign to call it quits, and it seems she’s just found it. Which means I need to find it myself too.
It’s funny how it works in reality, after all the grand words have been said. I know I have to move on and am even writing about it right now, which makes me fully accountable for it. Yet, in the back of my head, I know I won’t block her anywhere, as if hoping for a furtive reconciliation text was part of the healing process. But, fuck it. I’m so broken at the moment that I’ll skip the tough love I usually give myself. Slow and steady wins the race anyway, right?
And before I’m on my way, I must honor the title of this post. This is, as stated, a farewell too (and yes, I’m crying now.) So C, if you read this, I hope everything goes well with your life. Thanks for all the good times; the trips, the hikes, the lazy afternoons doing “Spotify and chill”, the ice cream and Netflix, the great vegan food, long breakfasts and amazing sex. I’m grateful for all those nights chasing each other in the dark and cuddling til the morning, for the unexpected sweet texts on hard days, for your selfless help and kindness in my times of struggle. Thank you also for being nice to my mum and my best friend. And for your skin and how freely you gifted me with your touch, and how tough you were when we worked out together. You are unique in every single way and I admire your passion, your resilience, your strength, and all the potential that you still have on your hands. Be well.