R.I.P to an occasionally thrilling, mostly painful crush.
April 2014-July 2015
I can finally say it's over.
I love her. I love her so much that I have to let her go. It hurts, but it has to happen. You cannot force something that is never going to be there, and I need to learn and practice that.
My parents are separated. She ran away from the house in the middle of the night in order to get away from his emotional and psychological abuse.
Now he writes her letters, the text jagged and scrawled, recalling old memories of when they were first married, telling her how he has changed. How he cannot live without her. He wants to fix things. He forgives her for leaving.
But she is not going back. And that's good. Because he has promised to change before. Because the reason he needs her is because he doesn't know how to pay bills or do laundry. Because he has no one to blame for things or get mad at when something goes wrong. He has yet to actually acknowledge or apologize for the abuse he had inflicted on her for almost 30 years.
Bottom line: For those of you currently in a crisis like this, please realize that sometimes the promise of change isn't going to be enough. If you know the relationship is wrong, don't go back. Don't give in, no matter the heart-wrenching emotional responses. The other person is not going to change, and you will be stuck forever with only yourself to blame.
Our relationship, like that container of our favorite lemon Greek yogurt, had an expiration date.
When we came across it in the fridge, we knew we pretty much had three options.
One: We could eat it anyway. We could just ignore the clearly printed expiration date and continue on as normal. Sure, our lemon yogurt could be totally fine and tart and delicious like always. Or it could be infected with toxic mold. Could we really take that chance?
Two: We could toss it away. We could live by our motto: better safe than sorry. We could spare ourselves the potential stomachaches and paranoia and just bid goodbye to that delicious, expensive-as-all-hell lemon yogurt. But that container represented an investment... could we really just throw it away?
Three: We could put it back in the fridge. We could push it to the very back of our refrigerator, and just pretend that everything was fine. We could buy and consume new containers of lemon yogurt, and slowly forget about the one festering in the background. If we didn't have to see it, we could pretend that our expired yogurt didn't exist anymore.
We chose the third option. What else could we have done?
At first, everything was fine. We ate new, fresh containers of lemon yogurt instead. We kept filling our fridge with fresh fruits and vegetables, and we cooked and ate and laughed and loved.
But when we got home from those two weeks in Spain, we discovered very quickly that the rotting yogurt could no longer be ignored.
The smell was awful; it contaminated everything in the fridge. We threw everything away without a thought, and took to the disgustingly sticky, gooey shelves of the fridge with masks and industrial-strength cleaner. When we were done, we had nothing. Not even that container of yogurt that had expired months ago.
Because you, always the brave one, peeled off its lid.
It was black and rancid and vomit-inducing.
So we threw it away. What else could we have done?
I think about you all the time. I think about you in my dreams. I think about you in my head. You're always there. I see your smile, I hear your laugh, I feel your gentle caress. I love you, I love you so much. But you don't see me, you don't notice me, at all.
"Sorry, mom. I forgot to tell you she was coming over."
"I already knew. You were cleaning your room. She should come over more."
I need you. I wanna kiss you. Ive never kissed anyone before but I wonder how your lips would feel against mine. Warm,soft...like they belong together.