I still have butterflies when I see him. I can’t help how I feel; my heart just hasn’t been able to catch up with my mind. I know at this point that it’s best for me to let go and walk away, but when I see him I just can’t. Who he is, how he is, what he is… I’m still in love with him. In spite of obvious flaws, shortcomings, and his own demons. Truly unconditional — something he wasn’t ready to return or face. How I feel isn’t logical, productive, or even right anymore. But it IS.
And, in all honesty, I just can’t stop. I want to, to save myself some hurt, but I can’t. In my mind, I know I have to let it go, I know that I’m enough and that I can survive without him. I just want him. And when he walks into the room, everything I feel comes rushing back like waves, pulling me with the tide. How he ended things wasn’t right; I deserved better treatment, no doubt. But I can’t deny what we had, or how quickly I react when he’s in my presence. I haven’t accepted the entire picture yet, because bringing everything into complete focus means having to address the mistreatment and the immaturity.
But being around him for over a week on a tropical island like Barbados? Complete torture. Seeing his ex constantly in his face, obviously still harboring her own feelings? Killing me slowly, like the death of 1,000 cuts. Wondering whether he would succumb to her advances because she’s right there in front of him, and we all knew he could get it if he wanted to? Hell. Beautiful, tropical island hell with a big cup of rum punch to fuel the flames.
We were civil. Most days I felt like he was avoiding me, which I understood. Guilt can do a number on you, and it has certainly been doing a number on him. We had a heart to heart one day in an attempt to clear the air, and honestly I think that he expects me to make advances to get him back. He thinks that I will ask him to come back to me, beg him for a reason, or let him into my bed just for a fleeting moment of reminiscence. Thankfully, though my heart hasn’t caught up with my head, I can salvage enough reason and self-respect to know that I can’t (and won’t) ask him back or open myself up to more hurt. I may not be ready to completely let go, but I’m not going to beg someone to be with me. I don’t want to be with anyone who doesn’t want me. That’s been my saving grace.
It’s sad, but I wish he would give me a reason to hate him. Maybe he has, and I overlooked because I feel the way I do. But hating him would make things so much easier, because I wouldn’t struggle against letting go — I just would.
I have everything I need for closure. I’m almost there. It’s akin to packing for a move. I have the box and the tape all set. But my heart has to let go of these feelings so that I can pack them away. I’ll always have some feeling for him, but this box needs to go in the garage and stop cluttering up my house.
Time for a little spring cleaning.