There are times when writing with a certain level of maturity is beyond me and I run the risk of making a fool of myself in ways I just don't care for. The past 2 weeks of silence happened because I just didn't feel like writing, I just didn't want to think, and I just could not be sincere without facing certain consequences. I'm here now, I'm writing, and I guess it's time for me to face the reality that, whether I like it or not, I have to write about things that have been... bothering me.
On my mother's birthday I met my then-boyfriend of 2 years and a bit, in the knowledge that we were going to break up, that he was going to start off the process, and that I was fine with it because it was time to admit defeat: we no longer worked as a couple and could no longer keep trying.
I now realise there were a few things I wasn't prepared for. I wasn't prepared to hear that he had long since given up trying to try to make things work between us, when I had done my best right to the end to try to make 'us' work. I hadn't prepared myself for the fact that now he would be talking to other girls, friends or otherwise, when before he seemed fine with cutting himself off from all but his closest friends. I hadn't prepared myself for the moment when I would realise that, despite how far into each other's heads we are, he no longer loved me.
This is where I say I no longer love him, and where you believe me, and where we move on to something else. But. But. As a horribly caring person, I find it impossible to stop caring. About anything, really. It's a drawback. I should have developed into a heartless bitch given what sensitivity and caring got me as a child, but that just didn't happen. So instead, I care. This is an infinitely bad thing when I'm going through the process of getting over a break up. I care about that person's well-being, I care about their life, I care because I put time and effort into that person and it's actually very difficult to let that go. You'll notice that I haven't used the word 'love'. That's because what I feel is different to what I used to feel back when I was in love. Now I just feel the same attachment I feel for my best friends, 'just' being an understatement, because I love my best friends dearly.
Part of the problem I feel bothered about all this is that I can't actually be a best friend to him, just as he can't be a best friend to me. Forget the usual 'you've seen each other naked, you can't be friends after that' litany, because that's not the problem. The problem is censorship. I have to censor everything I say to him - indeed, to anyone I've ever had a break up with - and be careful what I ask and how I react. How inappropriate is it for me to ask about his dating life? Extremely, which is the same answer to 'how inappropriate is it for him to talk about his dating life'. If there were things we didn't do together for specific reasons, and now we both are doing them, it's a potential bone of contention that needs to be kept buried. In every conversation we now have, it feels like there's a big fat elephant in a neon pink tutu and a neon orange headband sitting between us while humorously trying to play a trumpet.
And of course all of this is rather irritating, because we were both happy to end our relationship and happy to remain friends, but the reality and truth is that we can't be proper, honest to goodness friends. The past gets in the way, doesn't it? And there's nothing to do about that but lump it, and get on with things.
So here I am getting on with things, and having got that off my chest, I can get on with bringing you my thoughts on any subject under the sun in other posts. :)
Sincerely,
Macs
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