Why is it that whenever I’m trying to deal with emotions concerning him that I get writer’s block? I can never seem to articulate the way he makes me feel and the way he made me feel after all these years. He gave me a present at our meeting on Saturday morning. A present. And when I asked what the present was for, he said it was for doing this favour for him ((for those who don’t please feel free to DM me on twitter or email contact at fragileheart dot com and I’ll tell you)) but all I could see when I looked at the present was my guilt.

Many of you have said to go easy on myself and to forgive myself but I can’t. It’s difficult to let go of the fact that I ruined what could have been my future, so I’m going to have to write this out in the hopes that by seeing it in words I’ll come to realization that this something did, in fact, happen for a reason or several reasons. The knots in my stomach, I know, are not from eating bad food or from food allergies ((because I just don’t have them)). I never imagined anxiety could manifest into such physical pain but on Saturday as I woke up 30 minutes before I had to be 45 minutes away with the worst headache and chest pains I have ever felt, suddenly I knew better.

I rushed around, brushing my teeth, changing whilst hopping and was out of the house in 15 minutes. I called him as soon as I pulled out of the driveway ((don’t worry, I had my Bluetooth headset on)) and he was as calm as ever. My imagination flashed an alternative scene where he berated me for waking up so late; in said scene we were still together. I had no time to think about it as I prayed there wasn’t any traffic. I was 20 minutes late for our appointment after trying to find parking proved to be more like crumbs of cake than the proverbial piece.

He met me in the hall way and gave me a hug; I had forgotten how tall he was. Thinking back I’m grateful he didn’t put on the cologne that he knew I liked or this, right now, might be even harder than it is. We walked in and waited all of two minutes for his name to be called ((I’m going to skip over these details for reasons that I hope are obvious; and again if they’re not email or DM me and I’ll be happy to answer)). Once we were done, almost out of habit that I didn’t know I still had, I put my arm around his waist as his arm went around my shoulders.

I’ve travelled through time in moments like that before but it was never as strong as this was, especially as he kissed my head. Twice. Thanks to my still numb brain, none of it showed. We pulled apart once we were closer to the front doors, when he tells me about the present. I almost said no. But he seemed sure, so I graciously accepted. I drove him to the subway station where he lingered in the car, chatting; I wanted to run away. My guilt was in my throat pushing me to say, “Why don’t you hate me?”

It’s strange realizing that you still love someone yet know that you don’t want to do anything about it. It’s strange to know that you love someone that isn’t right for you, and who you don’t want any more yet still love them so much that it hurts. It makes me wonder whether it’s him, or simply being in love that I love.

I know he knows what I did, and he has chosen to forgive me to the point where he’s offered that he wants to stay friends. Considering his relationship with his ex before me, I know that could be a stretch but it’s still nice to have him offer. And if he’s forgiven me, then maybe… just maybe it’s about time I did forgive myself.

I guess this writer wasn’t so blocked after all…

What I want to know is, have you ever let love go because you just knew it wasn’t right for either of you?

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