Just Because I Don’t Talk To You, Doesn’t Mean I Don’t Care

It can happen to anybody. A fallout with a best friend. A breakup with a significant other. An almost relationship that gets ripped apart. The dissolve of childhood friends. A divide amongst family members. And even though it happens all the time, to everybody, it still hurts like hell.

But just because it happened, doesn’t mean the two parties don’t care about one another. Just because two people split from their relationship, doesn’t mean the love doesn’t still ring true. And just because family members or friends broke apart, it doesn’t mean that hate is alive.

Maybe I broke up with you, or you broke up with me. But it doesn’t matter who called the shots. It doesn’t matter who pulled the plugs.

I will not harbor hate in my heart to any of you.

Maybe I loved you, maybe you didn’t love me back. Is that your fault? Should I blame you for that? Should I resent you for that, for the rest of my life? No. You can’t help how you felt. You can’t help that you wanted something more or something different or that you wanted someone else to explore. 

However, with breakups and fallouts come lack of communication. For me, I usually choose to not contact anyone who is not a big part of my life anymore. And that’s with exe’s and friends alike. It doesn’t matter the story of the breakup or the story of the dissolve.

I’ve come to find that I can’t talk and keep in contact with people who used to play a huge role in my life, and now do not. And it isn’t anything about them or about who they are as people. It has everything to do with me.

I don’t want to waste my time and energy on people who aren’t significant in my life. I don’t want to waste my days talking with people who frankly aren’t part of me anymore.

But that does not mean that I don’t care. That does not mean that the love isn’t there. That does not mean that if they were ever in need of something, I wouldn’t drop everything and go help them.

Just because a chapter ended, or a book closed forever, it doesn’t mean that the story inside of it wasn’t wonderful or magical or beautiful. But in the same way, I cannot keep that book open. I can’t keep re-reading the chapter in an attempt to make it appear again.

What’s done is done. What’s happened has already happened. Maybe it was wonderful. Maybe it wasn’t. But, regardless, I can’t keep opening up old wounds. I can’t keep picking at scars ready for them to bleed. I can’t keep opening up my heart until all of it has dissolved right in front of me.

So, yes, I loved him and her and them, but it’s done now. That relationship, that friendship, those almost relationships, are all done. All gone. So, don’t try to pick at the lock. Don’t try to rehash what has already disappeared.

It ended for a reason. He or she is gone for a reason. But that doesn’t mean I stopped caring. That doesn’t mean that love will forever be gone.