I thought we were the real deal. Not a fairytale love story with a dramatic meet-cute where two people fall boundlessly in love and their lives are never the same again. I mean the real deal, where two people come to realise how much better their lives are with the other one in it.
Sure, you came with a lot of history, but that’s because you’ve had a life. I come with my own and I knew that you wouldn’t even blink at it because you know what the world is. You weren’t looking for perfect, which is just as well because the concept is in itself completely inconceivable to me.
I dared to imagine our future and how it would look. The experiences we’d share, the places we’d travel, the milestones we’d reach. I let myself believe that these things would happen for us because we just worked in such an easy way that it made me realise why previous relationships had not. Everything just made sense.
But I can feel us slipping.
We’re losing that frictionless ease that made us work. I feel like you’re slipping through my fingertips and I’m so desperately trying to hold on, but it is as though the harder I try to grip, the more determined we are to fall apart.
I don’t know if it is because I have been hurt before that I am convinced that you’re going to let me down or get bored of me. Every delayed response, every three word text, every cancelled plan, I read into them until I’ve convinced myself that these are sure signs of you distancing yourself from me. I tell myself that you’ve found someone else. Someone prettier, more fun, thinner, more confident. And so I get angry with you and ice you out until you show me some warmth and I realise how ridiculous I have been. That is, until the next time it happens when I’ll whip myself into that same old frenzy.
The assurance I once felt that we were secure has long gone. I’m stuck between wanting to push you away before you push me away, and holding onto you so tight so that I don’t lose you.
I’m terrified that I’ll reach the point where I can’t take the pressure any longer and end everything we have, simply to relieve myself of living with hope and disappointment side-by-side every day. If I know it is over, I can make my peace with it. The bitterness of it is that, in reality, this is the very last thing I want but probably what I most need.
When you let me down or make me feel insecure in ‘us’, I want to show you how much I would do to keep our little flame alive. I want to lie in the road and scream like an animal to show you how much I’m hurting. I want to cry until there’s no feeling left. I want to scream into a pillow then lie in silence. But all I do is reply ‘It’s fine xx’ or ‘No worries xx’.
I hope you hear me, even though I can’t say this to you. I hope you realise how hard I’m holding on before I have to let go.