I was watching a soap today, and a character in it said this little something which hit me hard, in the face. She said “I really… I really miss him. I want to tell him that I still love him. But I open my mouth and nothing comes out. And everything is terrible.”.
THIS thing that she said, unfortunately for me I understood exactly what she means. Day in and day out, whether wide awake or half sleep, whether driving or walking himself is always at the back of my mind. It has been a year, since we broke up (or he broke up with me) and I did move on (almost) But I did not. I have not budged from the spot where he left me. We are friends. Buddies. Mates. Whatever you want to call it. We’ve had a few “moments” when drunk, and a few “moments” when sober but that’s about it. I care about him, I really care about him and so I’m obnoxious when around him, instead of being cool, calm and composed or whatever that he is looking for. We talk regularly, have the same set of friends but he doesn’t care. And I can’t mash it down, what I feel for him and neither does he care.
He keeps telling me that I talk too much, or I’m imposing or I overact so on and so forth, which makes me feel like sheer unadulterated crap but i talk to him despite all this. I wonder why does he tell me all this, Why should he even notice my behaviour? and then I realize maybe I’m so annoying that he can’t help but notice how horribly stupid I am and How I end up making a fool of myself, everytime. everywhere. So I try to talk less, be less imposing and try to bring the change.
I know I sound really daft, ( I probably am too) but he is this super rational, really great guy so when he says something like that, I suppose it’s right because he isn’t the kind to talk unnecessarily ( I do that though and how! )
Anyway, I miss him. I miss him so much. I miss the way he smelt, my fingers in his hair, his hands, the way he’d play the guitar, that look on his face while listening to/ playing/ making music, that half smirk of his, the conversations, I miss him so much and there are times when I want to run to him and tell him all about everything and instead I don’t move and wave at him from a distance. There are times, while standing next to him, I smell him by chance and all these things come rushing back and there is so much that I want to say to him and I open my mouth with the scripted conversation in my head, but end up talking about something as trivial as the plan for the evening. Sometimes when he walks past me, I can’t breathe. I don’t mean metaphorically, I physically can’t breathe.
I miss what we had, because despite having been with a lot of guys I never had something like that. I could never talk about everything. All In all I miss him. I never thought it was possible to miss someone who is right there, so much. But it is. No guy can ever match up to him, because he put me up at a pedestal (and kicked my ass). I’m a stress eater, I eat A LOT When I’m stressed but when he starts hitting on these girls and goes out for drinks, I can’t. Eat. I feel like puking. I can’t sleep sometimes, I spend hours thinking about him. I know I’m being foolish and It’s time that I move on, I know all of that, But it just isn’t Happening. He happened when I was busy making plans, and now the plans have long dissolved, and he is long gone but I’m still here.
If he were a bad guy, who was abusive or nasty or a cheat, I’d convince my self that he isn’t worth the time and the energy, but the fault lies in me. I screwed up and always screw up. It’s this inborn talent, I have. I fucked up and ruined things but I tried. I tried so hard to put it back and get him back and tried to explain things, I tried to fight. I still am fighting for him, for us, for what we were but I don’t have any hope because in my heart of heart I know that it’s done. He’s done.
They say, “never give up, fight for what you want”
I’m fighting, I’m fighting so hard. I’m fighting myself too, and the universe refuses to notice the difference. It’s more of a need now. He makes me feel better even now, in this strange place he is home. He makes sense, when I can’t talk to my mother or my best friend and still takes my crap occasionally and reminds me constantly of my dream and tells me that I can do it, when I cease to believe in myself. He’s amazing, occasionally. Maybe because he has no choice. Maybe he thinks he’s obliged to do so. Maybe he is basically a decent soul.
He is my buddy. friend. Mate.
But he is so much more.
I open my mouth, trying to tell him, trying to explain, trying to not look like i’m trying too hard, trying to understand why, trying to do so much.. but I do nothing, I say nothing, I explain nothing, I understand nothing I just stand and smile at him and the universe, and try to remember how he smelt and do nothing…. and everything is So terrible.
But I’ll fight and try some more. Maybe some day. For what it’s worth.