Hi, everyone! This is it. The last one of this series. I don’t know whether to be happy or sad. It’s definitely been one of the hardest series I’ve ever done and some of the most intimate and also difficult posts to write. Once again, if you haven’t already, look at my numbers 1, 2, 3 and 4 of this series before reading this one.
This is the story of an amazing, beautiful soul and how I wasn’t ready for it all those years ago. I met him on the Internet… very 2000 of me, I know. More specifically, we met on 9gag. Back then people would actually chat on the comments of a post, and I did a lot of that. I don’t know if it’s the same nowadays because I haven’t really been on 9gag since 2012. So, I remember that one of us answered to the other’s comment and things quickly moved to Facebook. He was witty, funny and sounded smart. All qualities I admire and want in my soul mate. The conversations were easy and we ended up talking quite often and for hours. He was in the army (yeah, I know, I had a thing for this type) and he lived far from me. I remember he made me feel like I mattered. He showed that he cared for me as a person. I’m not talking about romance here. It really was the type of connection that goes way beyond that. At that time, I was on the second part of the relationship I described in my part 4, so being shown that I was important as a human being and that I didn’t deserve being called names by 50-year-olds was something that warmed my soul, that made me happy. Thinking about it in this way also makes me realise that this person showed me that I could be more. I, maybe, deserved something a little better in my life and maybe, just maybe, there would be someone who cared for me as much as I cared for them.
We first met where he lived, during his lunch break. I’d gone to the city just for a day for some political matters I was attending and when I told him, he said he’d like to meet me. We kissed that same day. He hugged me as soon as he saw me, and that, let me tell you, is not common. I’ve never met anyone else who’d do that. Yet, he did. I think I knew I was in love with him right then. I think I saw my entire future in a second. Would I move? Would he move? I had uni to finish, he had uni to finish. He had a job. I saw how difficult it would be and how easy he would make it. He was like that for me. Easy. The pieces just fell together, fitting each other perfectly, no need to be looking for that one piece in the middle of 100 others, because they would just fall in place. We talked and walked and smiled. I remember being so happy just by being next to him and to have a smell I could think of that night when I would be in my bed, alone. He had one of those smiles… Ohh, if you could even see it. An easy, full smile. He was a slowly-heads-turning-in-the-middle-of-the-street kind of guy too. He was the dream, my dream. And so, we kissed. He pulled me in, I looked up, he bent a little, I was on my toes, and he met my lips. Softly at first. More confidently after a few seconds. It was a match!
Obviously, I had to leave him and go back home. I was happy, thrilled even, but also sad and already stressing about when I could see him again. This story is the one I chose for the last one because it’s the story. If we hadn’t gone separate ways, I know he would be with me now. We share the same goals, the same mindset, we share the same sense of humour. I know how to respect his reserved-self and he knows how to care for me, even when he shouldn’t. I know that he’s reading this now, and I’m mostly writing this for him, for you. Because I needed to put into words everything that I felt and thought and maybe never truly shared. My sister (my best friend in the whole wide world, the person who knows all my sides and the person who saw first hand these relationships unfold), my sister loved him. They also shared many of the same traits and passions and even though she was too young at the time, I’m sure they’d have an incredible relationship now. That made me love him even more. The fact that he could fit in our family. I can’t even begin to describe all the amazing moments we spent together. All the times he drove long hours just to come and see me. Just to be with me for a few hours, or a weekend. And I can’t even describe how he felt, how he made me feel and all the things I said and promised and wish he knew. I can’t describe these things because they were some of the best moments of my life. But also because they remind me of my biggest low too. When he left, because he left me with good reasons, I promise you, but when he left, everything around me crumbled. I lost direction, I lost my entire self.
I’m not the type of person to fall because of a guy… But this was much more than just because of losing him. I realised I’d turned into a person I didn’t like very much. I had let my biggest fears take over me and lost myself in the process. It was the first time I could say I entered a depression. That summer and following year, I was numb. I lived just because I was too weak to kill myself. Days passed one after the other and they just brushed my skin, just a glimpse of a touch. I’m in no way saying he was the cause of this feeling. He left because he had to, there was no other choice. But him leaving just woke this part of me that was most likely always there, just buried deep enough so I wouldn’t see it every day. And by finally letting it all come out, I broke myself. For a couple of years, I felt like I was drifting at sea, no direction, and wishing I could feel something as powerful as what he had shown me. Trust me, I tried finding replacements. For the feelings and emotions and for the moments. I tried fighting the numbness with anything and everything, but when you’re that deep down, only you can come out of it. You don’t choose it, you don’t learn how to escape it. It’s something that happens organically; one day you’re in, the next you see a little twinkling light. Slowly, the light becomes stronger, making you want to live again, to finally let go of that breath you were holding. And then, there you are, looking down at the hole that once consumed your whole self. You wave at it and you go. I admit that sometimes I see myself stepping into it again, just peering inside it feels so familiar that it almost drags you in. I’ve fallen inside it again, and probably will fall again in the future. What this beautiful, strong man and this past relationship really taught me is that I need to listen to myself. I need to let go of all fears and learn to accept what I truly am and feel inside. I need to unbury everything and let whatever feelings envelop me. It’s ok to be afraid of people leaving your life; if you love them, you don’t want them to leave. But I’ve also learnt that by being too afraid, I end up making stupid mistakes and, in the end, driving people away anyway.
So, when you’re reading this, I want you to know that all those amazing things we shared are still within me; I didn’t want to share everything with everyone because I think they belong to us both. You didn’t make me fall, not at all, but you definitely push me into being the better person I am today. You made me work extra hard on myself to try to, one day, become at least half of the amazing, beautiful, determined soul you are. So, thank you. I owe it all to you, to that gentle push.
Until next time…