The above track embodies the way I feel right now. That tinge of melancholy, sense of urgency, tone of disconnect. I am compelled to write, because if I don’t, I will lose myself in the onslaught of emotions pulling me in polar directions. The truth is that I’ve never known how to feel about you — perhaps this is what irks me most. After a whirlwind of a month, you are finally gone. You’ve slipped out of my life as discretely as you came and I’m left to sift through the bordel that was our relationship.
The questions are like cats clawing at the door, demanding relentlessly to be answered. Did I love you? Did you love me? Am I sad? Are you? Do I want to see you again? What would we have been if our time weren’t so finite? If every “I love you” didn’t carry the caveat “for now”?
In these past weeks, at times I was relieved that we would end with the passage of time, because I didn’t feel that we were right for each other. I never said anything, but there was one Friday I was planning to tell you that I didn’t want to see you anymore. The complications were beginning to outweigh the pleasures, and I refused to lose my “center” that I had fought so hard to find. But you know what? Falling in love is just that — trusting someone enough to give them the power to displace you.
In the end, I said “what the hell” and jumped. When I finally stopped fighting us, you made me so perfectly content that I could see myself living this life with you every day. With you, there was never anything glamorous, but neither was there anything fake. There was simply you and me — human beings with flaws and hopes, desires and needs.
Yet why do I still feel that nothing we shared was real? That I have no right to miss you, because you were never mine to begin with? That I have no reason to remember you, because our memories were but dreams? That I have no incentive to continue loving you, because I only ever liked the idea of you?
Yes, most of all, I hate not knowing. Not knowing how I felt about you yesterday, how I feel about you now, how I will feel about you tomorrow. Not knowing if we would have been good to each other, if we would have grown old together, if we would have ended up hating each other.
I admit; I don’t know anything. Except, perhaps, that I still love you, and I’m not ready to bid farewell to us forever. Whether or not that is worth something is not for me to decide.