Jenn seeing him this week and telling me about his life made me miss him a crazy amount all over again. There's a knot in the pit of my stomach as I write this. I just heard the words "he and Paula broke up" echo through my brain as she continued telling me why. Over and over, "He and Paula broke up. He and Paula broke up..."
I contemplate texting him. I contemplate hanging out at the bar next to his job a few nights just to see if he shows. I contemplate what I would say to him and how it might play out. Then I contemplate why I stopped talking to him in the first place and why I was so angry at the time.
I was angry because I loved him. But I knew that love would never do either of us any good. It hadn't in almost two years. It could never evolve into being in love because we would never give it a chance to for so many reasons. So, what good was it to love him? We had crossed lines you can't cross back over. He had a piece of my heart and I his, but those pieces were not big enough to replace the other person who had a bigger piece already.
Now hearing that the person who had his big piece gave it back doesn't really change anything, but that small little voice in the deepest corners of my mind whispers to me, "What if...He and Paula broke up..."
I wish I could see him. Just for one night to see how he would react. What he would say. How I would feel.
Then the little voice in my head reminds me how fat I am compared to the last time he saw me, and I realize how much I really do just hate myself sometimes.
In a perfect world, I would be thin and young and pretty again and we would have a night like old friends so I could feel like something so dear to me ended on loving terms instead of in a blaze of raw emotion.
I wish we were able to just do and say the things we felt like in this life. I wish it was never a bad thing to feel love for another person.
I wish I could see him one last time.