You really do go through the motions after a break-up, though that’s not to say it’s always the same for everyone. One of my strongest opinions is that of humanity’s staunch individualism. I hate it when people say men are like this or women are like that… When people are pigeonholed and categorised. I hate the idea that I am defined the moment I am born; by my gender or my ethnicity or my appearance. People are more than their surface… They are complex; there twists and turns; caverns and mountains; truths and facades. You cannot look at me and know who I am. People are a network of unfathomable profundity. Nobody will ever truly share my mind, or know what it’s like to live in my body.
Nonetheless, I find myself relating to other tales of heartache — to a sort of shared psychology. There seems to be a process that people go through after lost love; a sequence of emotions or rationales. At first I felt hatred and sorrow. I had been hurt and how dare they. Then I felt forlorn and dejected; hatred turned to despair. How dare they became why would they. Eventually, it morphed into the insoluble question — what if.
I found myself thinking what if we had spent more time together, what if we had moved house when she wanted to, what if we got married… Would we still be together? If I did this, or if I did that, would it have helped? These are not good thoughts — they lead to so much regret and self-deprecation. I began to feel that it’s my fault. Could I have made our relationship better? I feel like I was so loving, but the fact is I was abandoned. She fell out of love with me; am I accountable? I try to be a good person, but is it enough? Am I enough?
When we spoke about marriage, it wasn’t an ‘if’ but a ‘when.’ We believed it would happen one day. If I proposed to her, would she still have drifted away? The sad truth is — who knows? Nobody. We didn’t get married and that outcome will never be known. We could have lived happily ever after, or it could have been another path to anguish. But… what if?
I’ve read posts from other people who have gone through similar fluctuations, who begin to blame themselves for being hurt. In my case, I think this stems from a lack of closure; a lack of confidence; a lack of love for myself. I thought my feelings for her would have dissipated at least somewhat by now. It feels unfair that she sill occupies such a prominent place in my mind. She’s gone but she isn’t.
She has a child now. I had a look at her new beau’s social media and there they were. They were together barely a year before starting a family. I was with her for five years and have nothing but pain to show for it. It’s astonishing — she used to hate children. Throughout almost our entire time together, she would tell me that she didn’t want children. She would irk and cringe at even the thought of them. I didn’t have any strong feelings either way. Only in the final days did she admit she had done a complete one-eighty and had decided she would like a child after all. I said I would take that step with her, but I guess she didn’t envisage that future with me. She was already cheating by that point, anyway.
I have a newfound appreciation for the Marc Webb film (500) Days of Summer. Such relationships do happen. What you don’t know with one person, you may with another. What she did to me was loathsome. To hurt someone you loved to that degree — it’s disgusting. There is no justification for it. But I’m starting to think it wasn’t meant to be. I don’t know her anymore. I don’t know who she is. It feels like the person I loved disappeared behind the lies and deceit and was lost there forever.
Our lives seem so different now. Whilst she has experienced love and life, I have gone through loneliness and death. She hurt me, but it has not affected her at all. I feel like I’ve been asking this since I started this blog, but how can people inflict so much pain and then go on with their lives without a care? There is no karma. It sucks, overwhelmingly so, that all my best memories were with her. They’ve been tinged with sadness; turned bittersweet. Now it’s like I don’t have any good memories at all.
Still, I felt a bit of closure when I saw that picture. She is truly gone. I am not a factor in her life anymore. In her last communication to me, she said she would be there for me always. What empty words. I would give anything just to hear from her one last time… I long to hear an unprompted “sorry” so I can accept it and move on. It seems so little to ask, so unassuming to expect remorse, but it appears as though she has confined me to a place even more distant than history or memory. It’s like I never existed. I’ve come to realise the only person you truly have is yourself. Perhaps it’s time I stopped thinking about immoral people and started working on my own happiness. I thought I couldn’t attain that without her, but I think now I’m willing to try.