Weâve known each other so long now, kept each other close and far and away and here. I reach out, he reaches back, always the same, same patterns. Itâs hard to change when youâve always been a particular way with a particular person. Which leaves me to behave the same way I did all those years ago, when love was fresh and he meant the world. When my hurt was strong and our feelings were stronger.
Heâs still the same, in some ways heâs more âhimâ than before. More pained, more fucked. He resists my shit more too, and I end up pushing harder because of it. I want to talk about us (again, with no end, for no purpose). I want to remind him he hurt me. Thatâs who I was. Thatâs how I knew how to handle being around him.
But I really am not the same as I was then, or the same as I was two years ago. I look at myself reverting backwards and I am so surprised by it. Itâs not what I want to do, itâs not how I want to be with him. I wasnât capable of holding onto my changed self around him, and thatâs embarrassing and annoying and okay. Because Iâve spent the last week trying to decide what it is I do want, why I keep letting him back in and what I hope our relationship will be like now. I keep treating him like I want the same things from him I did eight years ago but I donât want that. I want something totally different. And whatâs really surprised me about that, is that I think I want what heâs wanted for this entire fucking time. Thatâs the thing thatâs gets me the most. I want to hang out on my couch and drink beer or coffee and watch the office. I want to go on late night drives and talk because we are great at talking. I want to see him rarely but know that I will again. I want to know heâs okay. I need to know if heâs not. I never want to talk about us, I just want to be us. Without the past, without what comes next.
For the first time since I moved home from England I asked myself what I wanted from him, really and truly. I thought about what was fair, what was useful, what was right. It became clear that my behaviour around him has always been about making him show me, tell me, prove to me that he cares. I donât need him to do that anymore, itâs been eight years. We care. I donât want him to feel bad about the past, I want him to feel good, to be happy. I want to have a small, tiny role in his life. One where I get to see him once or twice a year and we get to have fun and then we go back to our corners. I want that. Wow.
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