“I know that like, I don’t cry and stuff, but I feel just as bad as you right now,” he said as I tried to stifle my sobs.  There he was, my cold, unwavering, now ex-lover, massaging my neck and shoulders, trying to throw me some sympathy.

“Would you want to try again?”,  I asked meekly, raising my head and uncovering my eyes from the cold, wet, snot-lined sleeves of my sweater.

Of course it was the wrong question.  Of course we couldn’t just try again, not now, not after all the time we’d spent trying and trying to make each other work.  The question and answer were circular, lacking in any real progress.  We always ended up in the same situation, me hurt, and him clueless.  It was always the same.  

I guess though, in the last few months, the situation had been more horizontal than anything.  Devoid of any incline, sta- gnant, without the rise and fall of a couple on a path of love.

It’s utterly pathetic how much I dreamed and hoped and wished, refusing to believe that our paths could be divergent.  Hell, I even wished on a star – on a fucking star – that we’d end up together.

And In the true unpredictability of life, the universe provided.  Gave me what I was looking for, a confirmation.  Love was there.

“Addiction is the hallmark of every infatuation-based love story. It all begins when the object of your adoration bestows upon you a heady, hallucinogenic dose of something you never even dared to admit that you wanted – an emotional speedball, perhaps, of thunderous love and roiling excitement.  Soon, you start craving that intense attention, with the hungry obsession of any junkie… Meanwhile, the object of your adoration has now become repulsed by you.  He looks at you like you’re someone he’s never met before, much less someone he once loved with high passion.  The irony is, you can hardly blame him.  I mean, check yourself out.  You’re a pathetic mess, unrecognizable even to your own eyes.

So that’s it.  You have now reached infatuation final destination – the complete and merciless devaluation of self.”

Elizabeth Gilbert

Love was there, but love is fleeting, and as soon as I was there to receive, I was there to retreat.  Hastened by the threats of heartbreak, chastised by the past, and now with opportunity in front of me, I’m left with the urge to run again.  Isn’t it funny how life goes?