I am still seduced, after all this time. In different ways. The moment has passed and it’s all in the past and I am the past and “we” are the past that never was.
I tell myself I am fine with that. The truth? Something within me will probably always feel unsettled when it comes to you. There’s a vague longing that still clings to my thoughts, and it makes me uncomfortable to know that I am now alone in this.
It doesn’t feel like enough time has passed for you to have built a life in which I exist only along the borders, but it also feels like too much time has passed for me to feel this way. Have we really known each other this long? Have we really only known each other this long?
How do I exist outside this space? Outside this wanting/not-wanting? This is one of those before-this/ after-this things.
For all intents and purposes, I let go long ago. The consequences of that only become more and more real. It could have been different, but it wasn’t. I made it so. I can take responsibility for that.
I’m allowed to mourn, though, am I not? Even though I never admitted to anything?
I wrote this to tell you that I miss what could have been. To admit it to myself. And maybe, in doing so, I’ll be able to honestly say that I’ve let go.