Spilled surreptitious words

Spilled surreptitious words

Spilled surreptitious words

I know it’s been way too long since our love story for it to be socially acceptable for me to even speak about it. It’s been nearly 6 years since we met and 4 years since we broke up which means since we’ve known each other, we’ve spent more time apart than together. But still, why doesn’t all this time make our story irrelevant to me? Why have you managed to move on and make a new life for yourself, whilst I’m still reminiscing the part of my past where you were in?

Which brings me back to me asking questions like, what could I have done differently, to change this outcome? Was it just one thing I did, or was it build-up of a series of things? Which brings me to the next set of questions: at what point did you decide to stop fighting to be with me? At what point did you give up trying to make this work? At what point did you think I wasn’t worth being with you? What if I had done something different? Would that even change anything or just prolong the inevitable? 

These are the questions that haunt me everyday. Funny thing is that even if these were answered, they still wouldn’t be enough to fix things. 

A part of me wants you to be happy with your girlfriend – as that would mean our break-up at least wasn’t in vain and actually served an advantageous purpose to you. But another part of me wants you to be unhappy with your girlfriend and be unable to get me out of your mind and come crawling back to my arms where I once held you. This indecisiveness doesn’t help me in getting closure for all of this. When I try to convince myself that you’re happy and better off without me, my ego is hurt whereas when I try to convince myself that you’re sad and thinking about me, I can’t believe myself – who am I even kidding. I’m nothing special. I have nothing extraordinary that makes me unforgettable. I need to get you out of my mind. I already tried it your way. Got myself a boyfriend. Joke’s on me since I couldn’t feel an ounce of love for the guy. How do you do it? How did you manage? Care to share? 

All these questions with not a single answer… But do I even want the answer? What if the truth hurts too much? What if living with doubts, what ifs and question marks is better than knowing the bitter truth that might break me?

In the meantime, I’ll keep meeting you in our imaginary conversations. Maybe it’s better this way. After all, if all this time apart hasn’t taught us anything, it’s taught us that we make better strangers than we ever did anything else

Always yours,
Your first love
K.S

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