Please Let Me Go Once And For All

Keeping busy is my definition of fun. There’s something about supplying your time with things which are going to be beneficial that appeal to me in a way like a kid to candy. I was adulting to the max the other day; running errands, cleaning the house, making dinner, you name it. It felt good to get things off the list. As I prepare for bed and close my phone for the night, the monthly notification from you pops up. At this point, I feel like my eyes are messing with me. I’m left thinking, “He can’t really be texting me, right?” or “This has to be a mistake”.

A simple, “Hey”, is all I received and I was instantly aggravated. With the message comes along some motive; some sort of issue or rumor swells in his mind until full capacity. Not anything along the lines of wondering how I am because the curiosity of what other people have to say about me is more interesting. In this case, a questioning and accusation of events in my past are brought to attention in, what seems as, an inappropriate manner of concern and anger. A complete misunderstanding once again leads to unfinished business and hollow holes of trust.

It is as if he can feel I am doing well off without him. The mere second I am distracted away from the thought of him, he arises.

And it is amazing, you know? The connection you have with a certain someone. Whether you are two or a thousand miles away from the person, you feel them. The person fuels your every thought process, having you think of how they would react to something you both could experience together. You feel when they ache, you feel when they exuberant energy, you feel when they have hit pure exhaustion. It may feel like a responsibility to care for another human being in the same manner as you uptake yourself, but it is definitely not a chore. More so, the feeling cannot be beaten down to oblivion.

Having emotions, especially for someone, is a great reminder for yourself that you aren’t completely repulsed from every person you meet; however, it becomes suffocating. I have always used the rule that once I begin to lose sleep stressing over something or someone, I must convert that energy into something worth more, potentially in a positive light than the negativity of it. With this in mind, I beg of one thing from you; please let me go.

The back and forth motion of our, whatever you want to call it, sets me up for endless possibilities. Possibilities, meaning, you will always come back in one way or another. You cannot keep coming whenever you feel it is convenient for you. It has been proven at least two or three times already. Guys do not keep coming back, or so I have been told. They say, “If you love something, let it go. If it comes back, it was always yours”.

Well, I have let go, and you came back, yet there is inconsistency in your stay.

It leaves me on edge, having me build up a wall for anyone new to come in, while I always tear it down for you. The countless late night thoughts and “what ifs” stunt me in my waking life. The monthly texts of you checking in on me sway my head. Why are you checking up on me? Do you genuinely care for me? Are you bored? Are you holding onto me like how I am holding onto you? A text can be just a text or a call can be just a call, but action comes with content.

I am sick of going to my friends or family for endless, repetitive advice which won’t stick to my mind. It hurts them just as much as it hurts me. Your actions can be explained by you and you only, yet I believe not even you can come to terms of why you keep coming back. The lack of maturity from your side frustrates my end because I was ready. I was done with all the “talking” phases with others because I genuinely believed I had found someone I was going to spend awhile with.

So, please, once and for all, let me go. I love you, I really do, but let me live.

Maybe down the road, we can meet up at the right time, but do not keep dragging me onto your vacillate path. Stop saying “I don’t know” because it does not help either one of us. Say what is on your mind, verbatim.