This piece unravels the infinite feelings that accompany the end of a romantic relationship. The writer thinks back at the time in which their relationship ended and cannot help but feel guilty and responsible for it. The feeling of regret makes the writer hate themselves in a deep and overwhelming manner. At the end of the piece there is a temporal shift, some time has passed, and the writer looks back at what they wrote with more clarity and rationality. They still feel the same pain, but are trying to make something out of it.
Here I am hanging by a thread, wet with tears on this beautiful late November day. Mom, Dad and I put up some Christmas lights and the sky outside is blue. I go downstairs to hang the wash on the drying rack, and as I'm reaching for my phone I tell myself not to pick it up, to just be a moment with myself. T-shirts, socks and pants hanging soaked with water, just like me. I try to hold back, to tell myself it's just a temporary feeling. But I’ve been saying this forever.
Fake it until you make it, they tell me. But I cannot.
What happened?
Did we fall out of love? No.
Did anything change? Maybe, but now that I think about it, it doesn't even seem to make sense anymore.
What changed were my ideas, my visions of the year ahead. I always planned from day to day, but suddenly I felt the need to plan in the long-term. I was anticipating change and I felt that letting you go was the first step of it.. I let go because of something I took for granted, that I was sure was coming. But if there's one thing 2020 has taught me, it's to not take anything for granted.
Soon, all my life was gone. There was nothing left, not even us. I began to hate myself. I felt an overwhelming resentment towards myself. I wanted run away from myself. Pulling my hair out, scratching my skin, punching the wall, screaming. Guilt was eating me alive: guilty for hurting you and hurting me. Knowing that you don't love me anymore unsurfaced my greatest fears, making me travel through the underworld of my mind, places I wished to never visit.
It became unbearable. Maybe we didn't understand each other well. Maybe we were too caught up in our rational thoughts, and had a completely distorted perception of the other. But I can't stop thinking about the fact that if I had been less cold, less annoying and less selfish, maybe we could have overcome anything.
Instead, I chose to give up the most beautiful thing I had, for something that seemed just as beautiful, but never came. I feel like I'll never be able to love the same way again. I'll be afraid of ruining everything. Afraid that the greatest gift could disappear in a blink of an eye.
There is no peace, I can't find it. Every time I breathe again, you show up again in a song, a place, a light or in someone else’s eyes. And it’s funny. It’s funny because you don’t even know any of this.
I hate myself because I can't find peace. I hate myself because I created the war within myself. And I hate myself because I keep thinking I want you by my side to get through it all, instead of thinking that I can do it on my own.
[…]
Looking back, I realise that inner peace is not something I can hold in my hands and that simply slips away. It is a tower I need to build with patience and care day by day. Some days, my self-hate is a wrecking ball that hits and damages my tower. Other days, I transform it into a building block, to create strong foundations. 2 steps backwards, 1 step forwards.