Tuesday, September 3, 2013

after everything that has happened

Photo via: Theo Gosselin

Everyone has their story. So this is ours. At least, it’s the one we started, but haven’t had the chance to continue. Just yet.

I met you only eight months ago. Eight of the most exciting, passionate, almost unreal, yet awful, heartbreaking and painful months. And the worst part is, I know don’t how it’s all going to end.

We’re both from the same little country in Europe, but we happened to meet across the globe, in India. Only a week and a half of my three month- backpacking trip had passed when I saw you. I remember visiting an Indian temple exactly one week earlier, tying a string of red yarn to a holy building and being allowed to make just one wish. I wished, harder than I had ever wished before, that I would find love. Not just any love, but my love. A love that would be breathtaking and mind-blowing. No, more like mind- consuming. And then, I saw you. And I knew it was you.

It was on a random street in India. It was my girlfriend and I. We hadn’t seen any western people since we had arrived, and were dying to talk to someone, anyone, besides each other. So when I saw you two tourist guys walking past us, I convinced her that we should follow you. So we walked behind you for a bit, until you stopped at a hat- stand. And then I heard you speaking the same language as us. I got so surprised and excited that I just started talking to you straight away. We were all so happy to see each other.

We got together that night. We all got drunk on cheap Indian wine. Somehow, you and I started holding hands. And ended up kissing. Then, without objection, You and I became Us. We had seven days together. The most intense seven days of my life. We spent every second of those days together. Making conversation, making love. With nothing on our minds but the need to get closer and closer.

After those seven days we parted ways, still holding on to everything we talked about; marriage, children and a life together. Both of us went on travelling, yet talking everyday for the next three months. And constantly thinking about each other. I remember listening to cheesy music and looking out at the road, fantasizing about us together.

Then it was time for me to travel home. And so I did. And so did you, even if only for a month before you went back. During that month you came to visit me for a week. It was different this time, seeing each other. Something had shifted, but it was still Us, the Us that I loved. We left things open. You were going to travel back and I was going to start school. But there was still a chance for us, later on.

At least that’s what I thought. Up until the evening of the day you left after our week together. You called and I knew right away that something was wrong. You told me everything, everything that I didn’t want to know. The worst of things. You had spent a night with someone else just a few weeks earlier. I couldn’t breathe. I panicked. So I did what I do best, I put on a smile and said it was ok. But, it wasn’t. I had had my heart broken once before. But this was something different. This time it was as if my whole being was crushed. I had so much trust in you. I had given you so much of myself. All of myself. The fact that we had such short time together is ridiculous. But the things we talked about, and the way we felt is something that no one else will ever understand. And it doesn’t matter if we were or weren’t together. You knew it would hurt me, destroy me. Yet, you must have thought it was worth it. Even though you said it meant nothing, it was still worth it. She was worth it. In that moment, she was worth my pain. And that’s the part that I can’t get over.

So here we are five months later. You’re still there and I’m still here. I haven’t wanted to talk these last couple of months. But you’ve still reached out for contact, which I sometimes have responded to and other times not. You’re coming home in just about a month. And I'm so scared. I am scared of breaking down crying the minute I see you. I am scared of even making the decision of whether or not I want to see you at all. And I scared of the answer I will get from you. Because after everything that has happened I still want you. I want the rest of the story, I want the whole fucking book. I want Us, the Us that I fell in love with.
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