For a long time after you left me, I was waiting for you to come back. That was my only hope, the only thing that kept me alive and that kept me from going crazy.
Ever since you left me, I decided to put my life on hold. Actually, when I come to think about it now, I realize I never made that kind of decision consciously. It was something stronger than me. I simply couldn’t accept the fact that I didn’t have you anymore and that you were gone from my life for good. That was something I refused to face because I knew it would break me completely.
So I decided to act like you were about to come back to me. I waited patiently for that to happen and with time, I started living in some kind of parallel reality. I was so certain that you’d come back to me that I didn’t allow anyone else to enter my life. Every time my phone rang and every time I heard someone knocking on my door, I thought it was you.
And although I thought that this hope was the only thing keeping me alive, it was actually doing the opposite. It was killing me all along because it didn’t allow me to move on from you. It was the thing that kept me from living my life and something that prevented me from even trying to get over you.
After a few months, the people around me started telling me it was about time for me to get my life back on track. Although these were people close to me and deep down I knew they only wanted the best for me, I refused to listen. Now I see that instead of moving away from the memory of you, I subconsciously moved away from everyone who tried to tell me the harsh truth that you were not coming back.
But gradually, I managed to do that as well. I don’t know how it happened but somehow, the harsh truth hit me. It was the one-year anniversary of your departure and I was sitting alone, thinking of all the things that had happened and all the things that could have happened. And then it hit me. An entire year of my life had passed. And nothing had happened to me in that year. And what about you? You were somewhere living your life, as if we never existed, as if we were never a thing and as if I had never existed in your life. And while you were doing that, I had spent that entire year stuck in one spot. And then I realized—if you hadn’t come back to me in that year, it was obvious that you would never do it.
And that was the day when I started living my life. From that day on, I stopped mentioning you to anyone. From that day on, I never once spoke your name out loud. And everybody thinks you are long-forgotten. Everybody thinks you never cross my mind and most importantly, I’ve assured everyone that I stopped waiting for you long ago.
And that wasn’t the hardest part. The hardest part was convincing myself that this was something that needed to be done. Of course, my reason was telling me to give up on you the same way you gave up on me long ago but my heart refused to listen. But with time, I trained myself into accepting the fact that you were long gone and that you had no intention of coming back to me.
So I continued living my life. And I don’t expect you to come knocking on my door, as if nothing had happened, anymore. I don’t expect you to come around with a smile on your face, to pick up all the broken pieces of me. I don’t expect you to come back to me and to heal all the wounds you left behind. I don’t expect you to tell me that you also missed me like hell all this time and that you can’t imagine your life without me. I don’t expect you to confess that you kept searching for me in every woman but that I was nowhere to be found. I don’t expect you to show up on my doorstep, asking for my forgiveness. Not anymore.
Because that would be too painful for me to expect. But it doesn’t mean I lost hope for it to happen. It doesn’t mean I still don’t wake up every morning praying for that to happen. And it definitely doesn’t mean a part of me doesn’t wait for you, even though the rest of me knows that you’ll never come back.