Feels is feels, dude. Sucks to lose a friend in a breakup, even if the friend is the one you broke up with in the first place. I don't know if feeling sad or "quietly freaking out" is immature either; I'm pretty sure Limerance is just a Human trait, and is not reserved for teens. You feel a certain way about someone else, whatever that is, and you hope another person feels similarly about you. It's something to do with how our brains are wired to seek meaningful connections and social interactions, and generally be understood or matter to others.
I don't think reaching out in a friendly or funny way is a bad thing, even if it's an honest attempt to rebuild that friendship. If they're okay with how things are now, and don't care to contact you anymore, that's their call too. At least you were honest with your own feelings and reached out. That seems pretty mature to me.
I bumped into someone I used to know. Kept it together for a time, but had a familiar emotional episode a while later, and a few bad evenings since. It's a good day, and I'm fine now... but I realize that I'm also not.
How is it that I still get messed up over you sometimes? It's been 16 months since then, too long for a casual non-encounter to drag me back to a stale old place, and all the anger, hurt, anxiety, and confused ugliness that comes with it. Episodes like this have come and gone so much since then that I'm starting to feel like my head and heart are just dry-heaving... reflexively trying to spew out whatever love turns into when it curdles, but nothing comes up. I gag and cough and spit, my stomach turns sour, and my head hurts, but it just stays inside me. After a year and a half of thinking I'd finally processed and gotten through everything, what else can I try? Is taking a day or so to get myself under control every time I see or hear or am reminded of you just part of my life now? These feelings have nothing to do with my present life, and haven't for a year and a half. And yet here we are.
Or here I am, anyway. The last thing you wrote to me read like some company's rejection letter to a hopefull but underqualified employee... a few lines of cold, curt, automatic text that I'd never have expected of the you I knew, let alone from a self-styled romantic who claims to value mercy, love, and openness as highly as you do. The way you left without any reason (not even one I could guess at), the avoidance and ambiguous silence that followed, and the way you still walk and talk past me when we run into each other- this, comming after years of close friendship, and after our time together- it's cruel enough that it's hard to reconcile with the person I knew, however much I try. Many times over the years, we agreed that we wanted to remain friends if we didn't stay together, but you never showed any sign of following up on that intention now that we've gotten to that point Even today, you style and talk about yourself very differently than you choose to act, doing both in the same breath even. I don't know where the truth of the situation, and of You, resides. Sometimes, I wonder if you're even aware of the schism.
One of the first lessons my Father taught my sister, brother, and I was how to Not Feel... how to guard against vulnerability or expressing "undesirable" emotions by lying to ourselves about how we felt, or how others made us feel. As a child, I used this to armor myself against those that I thought might hurt me, and those who hurt me regularly in situations I couldn't avoid. It's always been the ones I couldn't imagine hurting me who wrought the worst damage; my mother and my two fathers, my best childhood friend, and others I loved and trusted over the years. That, as you knew since the days we were just friends, was part of the history that made it hard for me to trust you. In time, I took down the many masks I once wore, some of which I didn't even know I was wearing, and I let you in. I'm still grateful for your gentleness and for helping me find that courage. So too, I can't easily forgive you for choosing to hurt me in the one way you knew would hurt me most. It's hard to imagine that was your intention but, as you were fond of telling me, the effects of our actions are far more important than their intentions anyway.
For a long time, I tried to convince myself that I hated you. I lied to myself the way my father taught me, and said things I didn't mean just to hurt you, and even just to provoke a reaction after the sudden silence. The part of me that was suffering most wanted to hurt you back; to manufacture the closure you never offered by driving you away. I'm not even sure you ever saw or heard it, or if you'd already closed all communication channels at that point, but that's a regret I carry with me now... and one you've left me unable to apologize for.
Loving someone doesn't entitle us to closure, but sometimes I fantasize about finding it anyway- real closure, without the avoidance or the ambiguity of silence. Sometimes I imagine you tell me how stupid and pathetic it is that I'm still hung up on this; that I should learn to take a hint and move on, as though that hasn't been my goal all this time. Sometimes, I've pretended we were talking about what happened on the phone, and why you left the way you did; I think of what I could possibly say to you in the wake of everything, and what you might say back. In some daydreams we come to an understanding, and make plans to meet over coffee or tea and get caught up on each other's lives. Other times we make amends, but conclude that it's better the way it is now, and say our fond and final farewells.
You were my best friend. I can't explain why I still wish we could be friends again... but I do know it's your fault that I feel this way. Of course I can't love you the way I did, and of course there's a lot to discuss about what we both did before attempting to reconcile anything. You still matter to me, though; I'm glad whenever I hear- even in passing- that life has been good to you, and wish I could still help when you're hit by hardships. And I wish I could know whether I'm being a stubborn, idealistic idiot for trusting what you said over the years, or if I actually did matter to you, and maybe still do. I wish I knew who you were.
Wherever you are right now, and wherever you're going... there's a lot I still want to say. Some day, I hope we get to talk again.
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Topic: Things that made you sad today thread. (Read 9779049 times)