i don't think it was love
Jan. 29th, 2025 09:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cheezI don't think it was love. We were never emotionally vulnerable to each other, and the two hard conversations we had were so hard, so stilted. It shouldn't be so hard to tell someone how you feel if you trust them, if you feel safe with them, should it? And I don't believe you can love without vulnerability and trust.
If I think about it, he never said, "I miss you."
I said it once.
Maybe I should've known then I was already too far gone. But hey, the denial is strong in me. And friends miss friends too. A lot. I should know.
And I know. I know. It wouldn't have worked out anyway. But I had thought this way the whole time, even up until the end, and it didn't change anything. I still felt those feelings. And when he turned to me, I knew before a single word passed his lips, that he didn't feel the same way. I saw it in that soft gaze, an answer more than the answer he gave. Was there pity? I thought there was. Or was that guilt? Guilt was probably too much to ask for. Consternation, maybe. Maybe he didn't know how to deal with the me in front of him, my emotions bursting from my seams, unraveling me into that barest version of myself I'd never wanted to show him. And that worse, that as I unraveled, it felt like this was a version of me he couldn't bear to see. That I was alone there, feeling like a boat torn from the dock, sent into the sea.
But if it wasn't love, am I allowed to hurt this much?
I wonder what it is that hurts me so much. To know that my delusions were never real? Or to be so alone in the hurting. To know now that I felt so much when he didn't. And that he never will. And that like a fool I had hoped even a little that he felt the same way. But at least now maybe I'm glad he didn't.
When this first happened I wanted him to hurt, I wanted him to feel that tearing empty hollow beating in my chest. To lose his appetite. To struggle to get up in the morning. To actually cry, for once. To not be able to stop.
To think of me and be in pain. To miss me, even a little.
I don't think he did these things. I think he went about his happy days, playing his games, meeting his friends, going on adventures. He always seemed to know how to enjoy life. Unlike me. I had always been the one growing up that thought, when everyone else seemed to be having fun, is this really so fun? Why are all of you happy? Are you acting? Or is it just me that feels like we're laughing because everyone else is? We're pretending, hoping we'll feel something.
But he wasn't like that. He really seemed to enjoy the moment, and from him I was able to learn to enjoy the moment a little too. He made me feel like I didn't need to be good at something to be happy, that it wasn't that those 'fun' moments had never been 'fun' before, but just that I had been alone. That having someone by my side was enough. That to laugh together was happiness. That was something I liked about him.
I'm not saying he can't feel emotions, or loss, or love. He has lost and loved more than me, and that's probably why it was easier for him to know he didn't have feelings for me. Because he has felt that depth of emotion before, and this time it probably wasn't there. That's okay. I know that's not something he or I could've changed.
I just wish...he had told me.
Anyway, it's easier now. To be happy for him even, that he didn't have these feelings. It's good only one of us had to grieve the loss of what never was. And what never could've been.
If I think about it, he never said, "I miss you."
I said it once.
Maybe I should've known then I was already too far gone. But hey, the denial is strong in me. And friends miss friends too. A lot. I should know.
And I know. I know. It wouldn't have worked out anyway. But I had thought this way the whole time, even up until the end, and it didn't change anything. I still felt those feelings. And when he turned to me, I knew before a single word passed his lips, that he didn't feel the same way. I saw it in that soft gaze, an answer more than the answer he gave. Was there pity? I thought there was. Or was that guilt? Guilt was probably too much to ask for. Consternation, maybe. Maybe he didn't know how to deal with the me in front of him, my emotions bursting from my seams, unraveling me into that barest version of myself I'd never wanted to show him. And that worse, that as I unraveled, it felt like this was a version of me he couldn't bear to see. That I was alone there, feeling like a boat torn from the dock, sent into the sea.
But if it wasn't love, am I allowed to hurt this much?
I wonder what it is that hurts me so much. To know that my delusions were never real? Or to be so alone in the hurting. To know now that I felt so much when he didn't. And that he never will. And that like a fool I had hoped even a little that he felt the same way. But at least now maybe I'm glad he didn't.
When this first happened I wanted him to hurt, I wanted him to feel that tearing empty hollow beating in my chest. To lose his appetite. To struggle to get up in the morning. To actually cry, for once. To not be able to stop.
To think of me and be in pain. To miss me, even a little.
I don't think he did these things. I think he went about his happy days, playing his games, meeting his friends, going on adventures. He always seemed to know how to enjoy life. Unlike me. I had always been the one growing up that thought, when everyone else seemed to be having fun, is this really so fun? Why are all of you happy? Are you acting? Or is it just me that feels like we're laughing because everyone else is? We're pretending, hoping we'll feel something.
But he wasn't like that. He really seemed to enjoy the moment, and from him I was able to learn to enjoy the moment a little too. He made me feel like I didn't need to be good at something to be happy, that it wasn't that those 'fun' moments had never been 'fun' before, but just that I had been alone. That having someone by my side was enough. That to laugh together was happiness. That was something I liked about him.
I'm not saying he can't feel emotions, or loss, or love. He has lost and loved more than me, and that's probably why it was easier for him to know he didn't have feelings for me. Because he has felt that depth of emotion before, and this time it probably wasn't there. That's okay. I know that's not something he or I could've changed.
I just wish...he had told me.
Anyway, it's easier now. To be happy for him even, that he didn't have these feelings. It's good only one of us had to grieve the loss of what never was. And what never could've been.
