the things i want to ask

[cheez]

I know I shouldn't. I really do. But knowing is different from wanting, and I've never been good at resisting my wants even when they are bad for me. Maybe that is my toxic trait: knowing something is bad for me and doing it anyway.

One of my friends tells me not to text him, and the larger of me agrees. I can't trust myself right now. Am I reaching out for closure, or answers, or just to get the hit of a little bit of contact? I can't trust that it's not the last one. It's probably a combination of them all. A little of tell me what I want to hear, or tell me what I don't want to hear so that it's easier to see you as someone I'd never be able to love or trust fully.

I ask myself, do these answers really matter? The logical answer is no, nothing changes, the world continues to spin as it will, I will still hurt, and I will still need to let go of these feelings. He won't care for me the way I want to be cared for. I won't get the words I want to hear, even though if right now I don't know what those are. But I just wonder—I just hope—that some of it mattered to him? Enough to hurt him. Enough to make him lash out at me when I ask. Anything but silence.

Or the other way is okay too. Hurt me more by showing me it didn't matter at all to you. Let me know how little you care. Help me let go faster by being the worst version of yourself, the version I don't yet know. The version I want to know so I can tell myself, I'm better than this.

But maybe I'm not. Better than this, I mean. Maybe I'll see it all and still want it. How sad would that be.

And would knowing any of this really help me let go faster? I don't know. I don't know if I just want to hear something from him. To think that maybe, in some way, he cares enough to still be in my life. He said that he hoped we could still be friends after this, and I was the one who said I don't know. But now I don't know if he was just saying those words to say them. To feel like the 'bigger person', to let me down easy. Maybe he wants nothing at all. A neat ending. Wrapped up and tied with a bow.

Goodbye to these moments that I cherished. The times you held me at night and kept me warm while I was in pain. The way your eyes crinkled when you laughed. How warm that laughter felt, how infectious. The little things you noticed about me, even though right now I can't remember what they were. The adventures we went on, LA, Monterey/Carmel, Oakland, SF, just around the neighborhood. Being able to tell you anything about my life except what we were to each other. To reach out anytime. To say, look at this, and this, and this. Isn't it interesting? Isn't it strange? Watch these random videos, I think you'd like them. The way your body wrapped around mine.

Goodbye.

Did you value any of this? Or was it only me, in the end.

Do I want to know the answer to that?

Yeah, I think I do. I really fucking do.

I know it shouldn't matter. But to me, it does. I hope that even for a moment, I was important to you. But I think that mostly, I was not important enough for you to tell me your truths. I know that is answer enough. It does hurt, though. It really does.

It really makes me feel pathetic. How much I think about you right now, knowing that you're probably not thinking about me. Wanting you to think about me. Thinking I shouldn't want you to think about me but wishing that you hurt even a little of the way I hurt.

Maybe if I write down the questions I have here, I won't send them to you. Maybe.

I want to say this:
Hey (you, person I cared about even though I tried so hard not to), I hope you've been doing okay. (Which is not a lie but also a lie. Because I want him to do well, to have the life he wants. And I think that in the future maybe that can be the only thing I want for him. But right now I want him to hurt too. It's hard not to. That's why I don't say I hope you're doing good, doing great. I can't yet.). I have a couple more questions I wanted to ask you.

When did you realize you didn't have feelings for me? Or see anything serious with me?

Were there other reasons you thought we were a bad match besides wanting children?

When did you start wanting to end things, and why didn't you do it then?

I'm not asking these questions to judge or blame you, just trying to get more clarity to make it easier for me to finish letting go of things. I'll be grateful for any answers you can provide.

That's what I want to say to him. I know it probably sounds stupid. Probably is stupid. But it's hard for me not to want to know what he'll say.

Will it be like last time "I already said what needed to be said"? Or radio silence? Or real answers with at least some thought or care put behind them?

I really really wonder.

Logically, I never thought we were a good match either. But why is it that for me, that didn't matter enough to tamp down these feelings of mine?

We were never good at talking about anything serious together. We both sucked at communication. He never took initiative to say what was on his mind about us, when he was the one who already had answers. He never was vulnerable or emotional with me, and he didn't seem to want to be. He seemed to have no foresight about his spending, he never saved money. He was insensitive sometimes. He occasionally made generalizing remarks about gender or race, something I sometimes reacted negatively to but sometimes let slide more than I should've. He held my hand when we were out, put his arm around my shoulders, wrapped his arms around me during a concert, even though we were fwb. But these were my fault too. I couldn't bring myself to say, I'd prefer if you stopped doing this. And we ended things, he got out of the car and walked away, without evening looking at me. It felt like he was running away. Or worse, that it just didn't matter to him to talk any more than this.

I wanted to yell after him, Coward! But that would be the word of a hypocrite. I am a coward too. I was scared for so long to face myself. And after that I was scared for so long to end things.

Because every time I did I'd think of all the good things I'd lose. That I've now lost. He was there for me for all my petty complaints and random observations of the day. He listened and held me when I cried about my injury. He'd bring home food and drinks to share with me, made sure I wasn't alone on my birthday. He was spontaneous, adventurous, fun. He lived in the moment, and taught me that sometimes, I could too. He thought about activities I'd like to do, like ice skating, thought about activities I could do with the limited scope of my injury. Helped me get out of the house at times when I would otherwise have been lonely and in pain. He called me up to watch random videos and shows, grab food, became someone I, probably unwisely, felt safe confiding in about too much.

I don't regret what we had. I don't regret meeting him, or liking him the way I did. I think in the future I won't regret that this ended. I don't know yet. I hope so. It feels less distant now, that world where I don't miss him in this fucking annoying way. Where my heart and gut feel like they're churning, burning with a heat I can't make go away. But that world still feels far.

It's only day 3 though. Lots of time for everything to change. All I have is time, now.

I only wish that some things could've been different. I wish he could've felt comfortable sharing his thoughts with me once he knew what he wanted, and knew that there was no way we would ever want the same things.

Goodbye to the you I once knew. I know we will never meet again. That even if we reconnect as friends, it will be a different you and a different me. Maybe that can be a beautiful thing too, if it is even possible. I think I'm starting to hope it is.

That's progress, right?

And I know I shouldn't, but if I still want to ask these questions after a couple days more... I might...