Have you
ever wondered what does a broken heart look like? I’m sure many people know
what one feels like the apathy, the uncertainty, and the overall feeling of
abject failure. My story is just like anyone else’s, maybe the players differ,
characters can change from set to set, but it’s not even worth rehashing. And yet,
I have to if I should learn anything from this. There were some key moments,
like a Friday night at an open food mall, a beautiful place by some artificial
lakes. There we walked together hand in hand, happy to be together, at least I know
I was. Making out between laughs and talking about her impending return home. That
was the moment she struck first, with promises of the future, though vague and
uncertain, never to be fulfilled. It was a few weeks after I had told her that
my feelings were growing, that a friendship was not enough, she deftly put the
decision on me, and I stupidly believed I could control my heart. I was as I usually
am, wrong. When i went to see here at her home, we had
been writing for a while, she had avoided more direct communication, surely
hoping I would let go.
There her behavior changed, she was more attentive, going for and
holding my hand, accepting my propositions for sex, which now I know was
nothing more than a cheap attempt to humor me. Then I made what I thought was
the biggest mistake of my life, I said I love you, and she freaked out, and yet
she didn't have the courage to tell me that if those where my
feelings, we shouldn't continue doing what we were doing. We watched a movie, holding each other close,
and she still kept quiet. We slept together, cuddling, but it was still nothing
more than a lame gift, a way to avoid any direct confrontation. Most people
think all men, and many think this of me, all they want is sex. But while not
incorrect, we men also feel.
I am not
an honest man, I tend to lie and present myself as much more than I really am,
but only one person have I let be privy to the real me. And she was the one
that let me down the hardest, not for lack of reciprocity but because she
couldn’t be direct about it with me. See, she did say she couldn’t return my
feelings, but when she took me to the train station, she reached for my hand
and looked me in the eyes and I asked for time, maybe there might be a chance
in the future, she was evasive. I asked if I could call, all I wanted was to
hear her voice, she said yes, but then she never answered my calls, or my
letters, and only from a far did she have the courage to completely shut the
door on me. I know of her follies, like she knows of mine, but I always
believed we could be honest to one and other, open in our pain that we so
easily shared. But I find myself alone and confused. Heart in hand and restless
in my bed, thinking of her, of why she couldn’t give me the closure I really
need. All she ever gave me were deflective answers, blaming her past for the
way she was. Were all screwed up one way or another, but sometimes you get to a
point where you choose to get over some of that shit. I wanted to do it for me
and her, maybe she couldn’t. Or she really did never feel anything for me, just
a “connection”, fuck, that feel like the biggest copout ever invented. I’m
probably just being a simpleton, but when you feel a person can understand you,
and you let that person into your most private pain, I think it’s kind of a big
deal. But I guess that kind of intimacy means nothing to some people, the just
share it easily with others, I wish I had known that was her case.
It’s funny that she said she had no problem
continuing to be a friend; I’ve been a little slow to catch that punch line;
also when she told me that she wasn’t into the relationship thing with me, and
then ending a goodbye email by saying she treasured all her relationships. Hilarious
when you think about it. I also believe the Spanish conquistadors could be
friends with the Inca tribes or the Mayans, so as long as they didn’t have to
look at them; they were a problem easy enough to ignore. I’m sure the irony
might be lost on some, but those who get it, well you know.
It feels
like shit to believe you’ve been used, I still remember she left from here
saying she was unsure about her feelings, maybe it was true, I will never know.
It hurts that while I was always upfront about my feelings, she plainly refused
to see that I was madly in love with her. Or maybe she just didn’t really care.
That shit is kind of tearing me up. An interesting thing, I would always remind
her how much I missed her, the only time she said it to me was the day she
wrote me a drunk email. Maybe that was a big clue; I guess love isn’t just
blind, but pretty stupid too.
Maybe it is
stupid, how can people fall in love after knowing each other for a couple of
months. While I always thought fairy tales were
bull shit, now I also realize that while I thought I knew something about
people, I’m much more stupid than I believed myself to be. I would call myself
a functional illiterate on people, or maybe just a bad reader. Either way,
sometimes you hope that real friends have the guts to tell you the truth, and
this friend didn’t. That’s a nasty awakening, almost bad enough to turn you off
on this love and even friendship thing.
And so this
is what my broken heart looks like, it’s not ugly, it’s just pitiful. It’s not
grand or over the top, it’s just quiet and unassuming. It goes to work every
day, laughs with the people it meets, enjoys time with friends. But at night,
all alone, it just lets it all go, obsessed with one thing. Maybe one of these nights
I might be able to sleep dry, and not think of her.
P.S. sorry
for this lame rambling, I guess this will never leave my mind, but at least I’m
trying to give it a go again.
