The Art Of Falling Out Of Love

It’s been a month. There’s an empty space on my wall, where you used to be. Empty photo frames sit on my shelf. Memories of what use to be and possibilities of what could have been but never was, forgotten. It was a hard decision to make, saying goodbye. You were a constant, like my heartbeat. I still remember every now and then, the crinkles around your eyes when you smile or the way your face lit up when you doing what you loved.

I still remember when I made that decision, to let you go. I started having nightmares, about you, about us. Empty words, uttered. Broken promises, spilled. It stopped being happy. I, stopped being happy.

I wondered, a lot, what went wrong. Maybe nothing did go wrong. It was just who we were. Two vastly different people, too different. You, were an optimist, far from a realist. I, was a pessimist, cynical by nature. You, wanted to see the best in people. I, expected the worst. You, had found home in home. I, found home in the world.

Or maybe, we had found each other when we were lonely. Lonely enough to want someone to explore this treacherous world together. So, we fell into each others’ arms, scared and delirious.

It stopped feeling like the first time. The first time when you hugged me, and my heart stopped for that one moment. The first time when we kissed, and my lips felt warm and my body tingled. The first time when you said I love you like it was promise; forever and ever.

That’s when I knew, it had to end. When time didn’t stop when you said my name. When the thought of your touch, made me shrink inside myself. When you said I love you and they felt like just words.

I’d like to think, we fought hard for this love. We also fought hard every week. If it wasn’t you, it was me. Neither of us were happy, but we tried to be. In the end, it just all got too tired. Both of us stopped trying. And maybe you were still in love. Sometimes, I believed you when you said you were. But, you weren’t in love with me. You were in love with the idea, the notion, of being in love with me.

I decided, I needed to do things for myself again. I decided, I had to be selfish, for my happiness and yours. Maybe you wouldn’t understand at first, but I knew you would eventually. I had hoped we would remain friends and maybe that was naïve of me. But I also had hoped that my first love would be my last and maybe that was even more naïve of me.

But I tried, I fought, and I swam in the deep red river of love and I didn’t drown. You’re going to find someone who will love you, you and all your perfect imperfections, unchanged. Maybe I will too.

We were what we were, past tense for a reason, and that’s okay.