I spent the entire weekend thinking about you. Why? It is too soon to tell. Was it just a song that caught me off guard or the cold chill in the air that reminded me of you? Was it loneliness in its rarest form or was it simply the late night texts that I was craving to wake up to? Was it the time of year that brings me back to those moments where we would be rooting on our favorite team or just the sweet agony of the simplicity of our last meeting in a snowy January that brings you back to me? I’m still not sure what it was that brought you back to me or what it was that I was supposed to see.
It has been six months since we last spoke and yet, you are still this lingering thought in my mind. This significant factor of where my heart doesn’t need to lie, but all of the places where it wants to be. Of what could have been, of what should have been, of all the things that would have been mine and yet, I still find myself looking for all the faults to rid myself of you. There is no significance in keeping these memories of you there or trying to piece together what I should have done different and yet, maybe these memories still keep coming back in a pursuit to keep moving forward. To remind me of all the things that I still need to see. To remind me that you weren’t the one. Maybe these memories are a reminder to me of all the things that I would continue to keep missing.
I didn’t realize it then, but I missed the sound of my own heart beating. With you I couldn’t hear it because all I heard was doubt filling my mind. A never-ending tangent of what I could have possibly done wrong to make you treat me as if I was nothing. The same old story of if I would have done it this way or if I would have said this, but it was always about me living to please you. I forgot what it was like to live for me.
I didn’t realize it then, but I missed this feeling of being confident within myself. With you I couldn’t feel it because all I could feel was eye burning into what I should look like, what I should be. I wasn’t strong enough, pretty enough, smart enough, feisty enough; I wasn’t enough to keep your eyes from wandering. It broke me even more to feel as though I was never enough for you to stop running and just enjoy what you had standing in front of you. I forgot what it was like to feel enough for myself.
I didn’t realize it then, but I finally felt that I missed this spiritual being of just being me. With you, I lived off of anxiety and fear of the unknown. Because with you I wasn’t allowed to have a concrete answer. I wasn’t allowed to make plans or feel as though the world was on our side. I wasn’t allowed to voice my concerns or be real, for fear it would scare you away. You never even took the time to see the real me. I forgot what it was like to have someone believe in me, even if it is just me.
Maybe the memories come back not because I need you here or to show me that I miss you, but as a reminder of how far I have come. A reminder of all the things that I need to continue to focus on and continue to search for in someone else. A reminder of all moments that I was weak, but can continue to grow from. A reminder of all the times that I thought I needed you, but continue to prove you wrong. Maybe the memories come back as a reminder to show me how much I missed the sound of my own heart beating.
Originally seen on Thought Catalog.
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