on breaking up (again)

and staying soft and open in the process (still)

i’m not sorry for how strongly i came on. it’s how i felt. i spent so much of our short time together apologizing for that, my big fucking feelings, and i don’t want to do that ever again. i’m not upset, i don’t think, to have been at least granted the opportunity to test the elasticity of my heart, to collect more honest and true definitions of love and care. care. i found myself begging you to do that when others offer it in abundance without me having to ask and that left such a bitter taste in my mouth. i will not do that again, so thank you at least for teaching me that i am worthy of more. but i am not mad at you, and my feelings were very real. i know you want me to be angry, that you were gearing up for a fight the last night we spoke because i know that is what you may be used to. there will be no yelling here, not from me. i told you that, i told you i wasn’t the person that hurt you so many years ago, i told you everything you wanted to hear, honesty was never my problem. maybe my patience was. people are always telling me that, you know, that i am just so patient, that i can hold so much, that it is so brave that i care so openly and deeply. as if that isn’t the result of hard fucking work, as if i don’t wake up every morning with ferocious intention, as if this softness just happens and hasn’t been carefully crafted and sacredly protected. it was so insulting when i asked you what you thought my favorite thing about myself was that i find myself attractive. i guess you were looking at my face and not seeing my heart. i guess i was so good at caring for you you forgot that i also had needs and depth. it hurt when i asked you to say nice things to me and the first thing you mentioned was how much you liked the way i looked at you. i’m not just a pretty face, you know. i came into this with my eyes fully open and bass in my voice. i am an adult and so are you so i don’t know why we ended this on some teenage shit but i promise that don’t have any bitterness, either, i want you to know that. and i will always fondly retell the story of how we met with sparkling eyes and reverence. i will never forget how kissing you felt, how you would playfully lift me over your shoulder like i weighed nothing, how nice you were to my mother, your hand on my thigh as we drove. that shit was meaningful to me, but it’s not enough to cancel out the other stuff, the heart stuff, the i don’t think i can help you and you don’t think i have any space in my life for you stuff. it’s too real and we both deserve to get the things that we want. i mean it. i will always be somewhere vaguely on the sidelines cheering for your success, even if i’m blocked. and i don’t mean i’ll bother you, i just mean we are not enemies and we never will be. we tried something and i don’t think it’s worth debating who tried harder than who but i do think it’s worth admitting that our calculations were off. that this isn’t indeed our timeline, that maybe all of the talk about timing knocked ours off course. i don’t know. i know you meant it when you said you were heartbroken. i really am sorry for that. i meant it when i told you i loved you. but i also meant it when i told you i couldn’t wait forever.