I’ve been asked why I’m so heartbroken over the end of a relationship that I admitted I knew had an expiration date. I recently defended myself on this point by explaining that, although I knew it wouldn’t last forever, that doesn’t mean that he didn’t make me feel differently than anyone else ever had.
I’ve been trying to put into words the feelings I have every day and every night when I remember time spent talking for hours on the phone, cooking meals together, or laying in his arms. The best verbal description I can come up with is that being with him made me feel excited about daily life. Even when I knew that he didn’t care much about me at all, being with him gave me a sense of possibility that life could be good and I could be happy.
The year that I was 26 was the worst year of my life. My birthday last week was far from the first time that I have thought, “this past year has been the worst of my life,” and I’ve been shown that it can truly get worse.
My father and I had a conversation about how it feels for me to live a life where I spend every night alone, and he said it made him so sad for me because there is no better feeling than being held by someone who loves you.
There is love, and then there is pain.
Every day someone stays in a relationship without loving the other person, having been unfaithful to them, or having better things to do than worry about the person they’re with. What makes those people stay, but he couldn’t stay with me? I’m that much of a waste of time, I guess.
I spent a few hours last night just luxuriating in the memory of my brief time with him. It was the nicest I’ve felt in some time. Back to reality now. I read up on the efficacy of electroconvulsive therapy, but unfortunately most resulting retrograde amnesia is short-lived, and the lost memories are recovered within a few months’ to a year’s time. Bummer.