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Confessions of a Thinkaholic

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Emotional

Til death…

I’ve been inducted into a strange club.

My ex died and I don’t know how to feel about it.

I shouldn’t care, one would think. After all, an ex is an ex for a reason. And sure, this ex was no different in that regard. Still, there’s a pain in my heart and I feel upset that I didn’t get to say, “Goodbye”.

We were still very cordial. On the friendliest of terms. However, I don’t keep up with people for the sake of keeping up. Life’s too full and busy and I can barely navigate my obligatory duties, much less small talk with exes that have transitioned to acquaintances.

We tried to retain the connection, though. When the major holidays rolled around and on our own personal holidays – birthdays – we made sure to send well wishes to each other. It was a reminder that we once cared about each other so.

This year though…I wished him a dope day and an even better year. Not yet knowing that his year was cut woefully short. I waited for his reply, thinking that maybe he was on an island adventure and didn’t yet have any reception. A few days went by and I began to wonder why he hadn’t replied. He always replied. Always. He was good in that way. And so when the days turned into weeks, I just knew that something was amiss.

I don’t know what made me google him, but I figured if there was news to know, Google would have it.

I searched his name, and a lot of random people came up. They weren’t him. I felt relieved but also, I felt I didn’t really try to find out information. I was looking for his social media or something. And crazy as it may sound, we never became friends on social media. Not sure why…maybe because we both were in our anti social era when we met, and stayed there.

I searched again, adding the borough and city to my search query and lo and behold, I see the obituary. My birthday wishes were in vain. He’d been gone already for 3 months. Immediately, I felt terrible about it. I couldn’t know that the last time was our last time speaking with each other. And I felt a great sadness. He was truly a kind person. Gone too soon.

After the shock wore off. I shared the news with a few friends. They didn’t really seem to care. They gave me some, “aww’s” and went about life as usual. And I was stuck, not knowing how to feel. Wondering if I should reach out to his friends and thinking better of it. They’d already gone through the shock of losing him – I was late to the party.

I still don’t know how to feel, except sad. It’s such a big feeling to know I’ll never speak to him again when I wish I could. RIP B.B 💔

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Words from Heartbreak City

I stop before I start. The words, special ones that will make you understand, won’t come. They’re hiding, just like I am now. 

I drink, not for liquid courage but to dissolve my chagrin. It’s working, but the side effects are regret and anguish at choices I made in happier times. 

It’s too hard loving you so fully and being shunned so subtly. 

The telltale signs are the rising panic in my chest and that funny, irritable feeling in my nose before the tears come and I know you can’t ever love me, the way I love you. 

And I can’t help to think what a fool I am.

I am taking a permanent break from you and no, I don’t wish you well. 

I wish me renewed insight and resilience to cope with another heartache/break. 

I know I can feel better and hope that it will be one day sooner than if I’d never wished for it at all. 

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Withdrawal

I am fervently wishing to get over you…
Soon
You are the monkey on my back
Clawing at my chest
Trying to get into my heart
No matter how I thrash about
I can’t get you off
You are the tell-tale track marks along my arms
You fade with time but never really gone
You are the craving, the panic and the fear
And there’s a tiny voice inside
Reminding me that you ain’t going Nowhere
And then there’s the cold sweat
Along my temple, drenching my hair
I know it’s all psychological
But I feel it Everywhere

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Silence

Oh my God!

The silence. This silence. This awkward silence between us. What does it mean? Perhaps, I should not have picked up. But the ringing…

The ringing is so insistent when it’s you. So I can’t ignore it. I know it’s you. I somehow always know it’s you. The numbers change but the ring is still the same.

What exactly is it that you want? I thought we figured out long ago that there was nothing, absolutely nothing I could help you with but here you are again on the other end. You made things this way but you are searching for your way in and you’re not welcome here anymore.

You want to see how I’m doing. The answers come to me automatically.

“I am fine. Thank you.”

“And you?” tacked on to be polite.

I’m good,” you say, your voice weary.

With what? Weary with the weight of calling yet again, not knowing, never knowing what to expect but expecting anyway.

Then silence. I play with the phone cord hoping that you’ll tell me why you keep doing this to me.

“Can we talk…” you eventually ask.

Can we talk? Of course we can. We are. It’s not that we can’t talk. It’s that we won’t talk. Your guilt and my hatred suffocate us every time. The silence speaks for itself. Every time I speak to you I go through a bevy of emotions. Sometimes, it’s annoyance but now, right now its anger. There are so many reasons why. Today though, it’s because you remind me of a man I once loved. You sound like him right now in your vulnerability and you say my name like he used to. But this is not for him. His turn at occupying my time, my mind, my thoughts – is over. It’s your turn for these few moments that we sit here – you at your job, me at mine, both of us wondering about this silence and who will save us from it.


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