This Is Me Giving Up On Any Hope Of Closure For Us

Twenty2 0/ @losangeles

There are hours where I like to feign that if we just had one conversation, one last moment of words we meant to say but didn’t, or things we really felt, but didn’t do anything about, that it could fill all the empty space between us and make it feeling a little less overwhelming .

I’ve spent a lot of hour pretending, especially when it has come to you. I think it’s always been that way, if I’m honest. Because in all the time I’ve known you, we’ve expended it more apart than we ever did together. Life has a funny way of doing things though–you think about the person who isn’t in the room because you want to know what would happen if they were.

I are applied to imagine every possible scenario that could involve the two of us, even if I knew the reality was that we would’ve sat by each other and scarcely said a word. I used to feign that you would say all the things I wanted you to say, or even that you would just…stay. The fantasies felt real because I never guessed I was asking for much. I wasn’t asking for grand gestures or perfect prose brought to life. I actually just wanted you, with me, and able to admit that you wanted it too.

Life has a funny way of doing things though. Sometimes the words show up, but too late, too hollow. You don’t remember the words carrying a melancholy tone to them. You don’t recollect the idea of the person finally telling you what you want to hear and the words simply don’t fit right in their mouth, the route you pictured they would. Sometimes the person can be right in front of you, but the storyline in your head is all incorrect. Sometimes life reminds you that alternative you think the most about isn’t the best one, even when it takes you too long to see it. You don’t remember the possibility that there could be someone else, someone who wasn’t them. You don’t remember rehearsing how to say that you have impressions for a new person who’s chuckle is filling your headspace. You don’t remember scheming a conversation that involved the words “I’m sorry” and “I wanted it to be you, but it’s not anymore.”

I don’t remember in any of the conversations I imagined for us that any of them would involve me telling you about someone else.

I think it was easier to hold onto a memory than to admit that us not working out actually was the best thing if I let myself espouse our reality.

And in the midst of that reality, we made some promises that I’m sure we meant to keep, but never did. Is there ever a good time to follow up a conversation about how you aren’t going to move forward , not together? It’s easier to acknowledge we would rather avoid talking about it anymore than to look at each other and know that after that moment, there would be no more debate. There would be no more potential for us .

So we avoid it. We don’t have a last dialogue, so that we don’t have to face the truth .

Life has a funny way of doing things though. It reminds you in subtle styles, in the emptiness of conversations and the absence of a smile you used to study like it was everything. It triggers memories that “youve never” expected to miss, it occasionally hurls you together again in a room full of populations and lets you feel the ache of realizing how long it’s been to be in the same place.

It reminds you that regardless of how much easier you thought it would be to avoid it. You can’t. Not really.

You keep the regret as a parting gift and hope it observes a place on the shelf over period, instead of always in your memory.

I like to pretend that if we could sit down and have one last conversation, then maybe there could be some peace to replace the aching. I think it’s easier to imagine 74 dialogues that all end with some sort of healing for both of us than to acknowledge I’m not even sure what your voice sounds like anymore. I think it’s easier to chase the idea of closure than be recognised that we aren’t any closer now than we used to be. Yet the truth is, a dialogue changes nothing–it wouldn’t have fixed the circumstances . It would just reiterate what we already knew. It would just dedicate us more terms to play back when the empty space decided to make itself known once again.

I know now that the only thing that will construct things any easier is time. I know that nothing could’ve constructed things easier, because for us to walk away from each other wasn’t easy by any means. I know that to pretend any exchange of words could’ve mended us is just another way to feign .

Though when it comes to you and me, I think it’s easier to admit it’s what I’m best at.

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