I found this in my writing folder. It’s not about my young dude. It’s before his time with me.
I’m starting over completely. Again. I will be getting a new job, moving to a new city, into a new house and finding new friends. I will be getting used to the quirks of a new life again. Everything. I’ll be the newest person at work again. I’ll be the curious new person in the neighborhood again. And all of this will have to happen while I’m teaching two other people how to handle this much change.
I will disappear again. My name is already different. My hair is different. My body has completely reshaped itself. Nothing of this prior me will be left. I will have no more backstory. I will have no more people in common with other people. I will cut ties again. And they will cut ties with me. It’ll be mutual because for all of us it really is “out of sight, out of mind”. That’s just how this place is. They don’t care where you go if you leave. They don’t care what you do or how you end up. So, I will be leaving all of this behind. Every bit.
I wonder will I somehow fall back into my old life. The one I had before coming back here. Will I somehow run into the same people and spark up the same old friendships. I have really missed some of those people. I may have burned some bridges, though. Because interpersonal relationships are hard for me long term. I can’t keep a friend long. Not a good friend. Associates are a whole other issue. I have none of that currently, but before this I did have a social life. I had people I spoke with regularly and who sought out my company. It was so different than it is now.
I’m afraid of what is going to happen too. I’m afraid of going forward. Even though I know I have to. I want to cling to this life with everything I have. Even as I watch it turn to ashes around me. This is not my life anymore. This is not my house, my town or where I’m meant to be. It can’t be. I’m so unhappy here and have always been. This town has sucked my soul dry. My girls forgot what it was like for me to laugh and have fun. The youngest had no idea I was like that. I started wearing makeup again. I started falling in love again. My heart was broken again. I find so little reason to smile now. I want to start over. I want to be happy again. I want to laugh. But I’m afraid of the struggle. I’m afraid of how I’ll end up. Who I’ll end up with. Will I even find someone to love again?
I do still miss him. Not as much. Not nearly as deeply. I miss the idea of him at this point. I’ve long since abandoned hope that I’d ever see him again. I was doing fine until he emailed and then… Back to square one. But only for a short while this time and not nearly as sharply. I can sometimes feel him thinking about me. That’s when I miss him the most – because our connection is still there. I can suddenly feel him in my chest and I’m suddenly drawn to memories of him. I can feel his touch and smell him. It never lasts very long – that moment when we’re mutually reaching out. And it’s a melancholy sort of feeling. As if our souls, who were so close to coming together again, realize that we will never reunite. He isn’t as drawn to that as I am. Not nearly as sensitive to it. He can’t be. It would be driving him crazy. But maybe it is. Maybe that’s why he can’t seem to find a happy place. He was too busy fighting me. Why did he feel compelled to tell my family that I was talking to him? Why was he proud of that? I’ll never know, because knowing that I knew what he did has scared him away again. This time for good. There is no more contact, no more reaching out, no more talk of reuniting. It’s all done and over with now. I still look though. I still wish.
I can’t remember what his face looks like. Every memory I have of him is of his hands or chest or neck… never his face, mouth or eyes. Those features are all blurred. Like my mind has erased that thing which betrayed me the most from my memory – his beautiful, lying angel face. He was amazing, but he was never mine. And so my mind has deleted that part of my memories. I have to look at pictures for that, but I can’t remember those 5 minutes after I look at them. Does that make me horrible? I told him that. I told him that his face was a blur in my mind. That’s no lie. He never responded to those things I said to him. Why was that? How could he do that to me? Just look at my words and ignore them?
Ever since he contacted me again I’ve been keeping note of the times he ignores me. I pay attention to the words I write that mean nothing to him. And I have changed my tactics. Sometimes he replies, mostly he’s stopped. And each time I feel less for him. Right now? I miss a ghost. I miss an idea. I miss an opportunity missed. My soul is wrapping around itself – like a snake coiling up for protection. I can feel her in there, hiding her head and trying to sleep. She wants no more of this battle. This one was exhausting and, really, the last chance she had. The connection – attachment? – was ignored and one end of it died out.