One of the more difficult aspects of a break up of the kind I’ve experienced is the missing of the other person. When it’s not an occurance that you either wanted or needed the consequences are drastic and terrible. That’s in no way to say that the other person doesn’t miss you as well, it’s just that in many ways that shows itself differently to them. I’m sure, based on a recent conversation with her, that my ex misses me and for many of the reasons I miss her. It’s where the difference is that makes my position more difficult. We were the best friends either of us ever had, or perhaps ever will, and had a connection that is impossible to explain (which I can honestly say without any sense of hyperbole.) There was just something magical and mysterious that bound us to each other that you don’t find that often, if ever, in this life. And that is certainly worth missing and wanting back as part of your life. That kind of connection is beyond belief for most people and the loss of it is exquisitly painful.
For me there was always the added element of love that bound my heart to her. Love as every linguistic term or element. And it was, and unfortunately for me still is (I’m trying my best to let it go, but it’s hard,) an incredibly powerful feeling. Sometimes I feel that I loved her too much and she felt at times that I didn’t love her enough but it doesn’t matter who was right now because those fights are all behind us now. I’d be ecstatic if they weren’t, if they could have eventually evolved into cute fights over who loved who more but that chance is gone now.
But it’s not about these things that I wanted to write today. I wanted to write about one of the things I view as being among the more difficult things to deal with in a break up of this sort-sharing life with someone. This is something I am, and have been, finding really hard to handle. For nearly four years (cumulatively) we shared each others lives. All the happiness, pain, boredom, quiet moments, fun parties and mutual friends were shared. Now that they’re not the lack of that is painful. It’s been a beautiful, though slightly chill, day and neither of us knows what the other one has done with it. That’s natural given the circumstances but imagining what we could have done with this day is hard. It’s hard to explain what I mean, especially coming from the recognition that I’m no longer the only one who visits this site, but it sucks. We are meant to share our lives with people. They make our lives what they are and make them worth living. Which can be said of anyone in your life. They need not be as important to you as she is to me but it makes everything better if they are.
At the end of the day I miss a lot of things about being with her. Some that only make sense to me, some that might not even make sense to her, some that are obvious and natural in any romantic relationship. But it’s the sharing each others lives the way only significant others can that encompasses all of them. We’ll never have that again, unless my hope proves not to be as foolish as it feels and she takes me back, but I sadly don’t ever see that happening. We may someday be friends again, if I can stop loving and wanting to be with her, but things will never be the same because there is a huge difference, from my perspective, between taking part in someone’s life and sharing it. I don’t how to really explain any of this but maybe I don’t need to. Maybe you know what I mean and maybe you felt it too. If so, you have my sympathy because this hurts and I don’t wish that on anyone.