The Rest of My LIfe
Scott and I spoke on the phone after the day he IMed me. That day when I kept saying those nice things to comfort him, to make the hurt go away.
A long time ago he never liked to stay on the phone because he was always tired, because his bed time was earlier than mine.
He was always tired.
I go to sleep at 9:00 - 9:30 every evening since we stopped talking. It makes the nostalgia go away. If I'm sleeping I don't remember that our time is passing. The comfort of my bed and the serenity of my sleep helps me forget that each stroke of the second hand doesn't make a difference anymore, that the phone won't ring and it won't be him.
He goes to bed at 1:00 in the morning now. And that night, that night we spoke again for the first time in two months, I stayed on the phone for him. Because it was nice. And hearing his voice made the world okay. And at the very end, the very end, I told him that I loved him still and that it was okay if he didn't feel the same way because it has been a while, and that I understood. And I got off the phone.
Last night, I spoke to him again. I promised myself that I wouldn't call but I did anyway. I told myself that I didn't care whether or not he called. And it wasn't like I was anxious. I'm sure if I walked downstairs, I wouldn't have called, and it wouldn't have mattered. But I was upstairs. And I couldn't bring myself to move. Because secretly I was sort of hoping that the phone would ring and I wouldn't care. But it didn't ring and I did care. So I called him to say hello. We said Hello. And I tried not to get jealous because he had some drunk girl spend the night at his house sunday evening.
And I tried to be okay that he wasn't mine anymore. I really am okay, I know that this may seem like I'm not. But in truth, I'm not as sad as I use to be.
I've sort of just accepted all of it.
There is a part of me, deep in a closet of my heart, that is the size of grain of sand, that will never be rational about him. A part of me that will love him as passionately as I did the first time I knew I was falling for him. A part of me that will never be okay with the fact that he left. A part of me that will mourn and celebrate what we had. But the rest will move on. The rest will find someone else to fill my heart with their sand.
This is the rest of my life.
And he's no longer in it. That one boy. The first one. Time has passed by. All the countless rounds that the second hand has ticked away has moved me from point A to point B ...and I hadn't even realized it.
It's funny what happens to you when you don't pay attention.
I can't say that I want to him to come back. I can't say that I don't want him to come back. I'm just saying that he is in my life again, in a very subtle way. I've changed too much for everything to go back to normal. That he is the same boy that left me but not the same man that I fell in love with. That he has changed but what I didn't realize was that he had changed even when I had the title of being his girl. I didn't realize that the boy who left me wasn't the one who use to catch me when I fell. I didn't realize it was always me bandaging myself up and kissing my own boo-boos when I fell over and over again from lack of attention from him.
And I'm not blaming him. I just never saw. He's not a bad guy. He's just not my guy anymore. And I'm not passionately sad, just the quiet kind, it's always that quiet kind of sad. And I will let the sands of time pass and watch as the second hand moves on as we both will. And that is okay. And this is just very sad. I'm ready. I don't need my coat; it won't be cold where I'm going, because I'm not following you this time.