Sadness Into Longing

Last night I couldn't sleep until past 4am. Reminiscence kept me awake. My mind was full of images from last year - my body tensed, my heart ached, my eyes welled up with tears, my breathing changed.

One year ago at 4am this morning, we were on the phone. We would be for at least another two hours. It was the first time you had spoken to me in ten days - the longest and worst ten days that I pray I will never experience again. At 6am, I ran over to your house down the street and met you at your door. I remember the warmth of your skin, the crispness of your shirt, the way I held you so tightly to make sure you were still there. One year ago on this day, to this very hour, we awoke naked and in each others arms. You said that if you wanted a sad and longing memory, it was to be that. Now, I long for a life that I haven't lived in a while.

One year and seventeen days ago, I stood beside your hospital bed, held your hand and told you that everything was going to be alright. One year and seventeen days later and I still don't know what to say about your attempt. One year and seventeen days later and I still don't know what to say about my cheating or lying or how I still hurt and cry and ache over everything.

It's been a long, long year. I can't tell you how badly I didn't want things to end the way they did. I can't tell you how badly I didn't want things to end at all. But you're happy now. With her. Funny, because she was the exact object of my monstrous jealousy, something new and scary even to me. And it's not that I don't want you to be happy because I do, and you are. I think a lot about that time I saw you at the bus terminal a few weekends ago. As our buses drove off in opposite directions away from the city that we share, I thought about how that little moment was such a microcosm for our lives: you with her returning to someplace familiar, and I alone revisting a place that we had once been through.

One year and seventeen days later, we pretend like the other person doesn't exist. It's been a lot longer than ten days since we last spoke. One year and seventeen days later and I'm not worried about you not loving or even liking me. I'm just worried that I won't stop loving you.
11:11 am