it doesn’t end with hope. because hope is the idea that it never ends.
i wanted to be cool, like a cucumber, the vegetable you detest. i wanted to be calm and collected, full of earthly wisdom and maturity as you passed sentence on our relationship. i wanted to, for the first time in my life, walk away with a solid decision instead of running. i wanted to be a lot of things tonight… a lot of things that i ended up not being.
things end and people change and life moves on, and those are the only certainties in an uncertain life. for the first time ever, words aren’t enough.
for a long time, you were a long list of firsts in my head. tonight, there was a running commentary of lasts. touching you used to be so easy but… i realize now that i will never be able to pull you in for a kiss. my fingers will never intertwine with yours again. you will never hold my hand while driving through nameless streets. i will never be able to run my fingers through your hair, or to judge their length with my hands anymore. that my body will never be so close to yours that we have to open all the windows in my room because it’s too hot. you will never be big spoon or little spoon with me and we will never watch movies or New Girl or How I Met Your Mother in my room anymore.
i will not be the first person you text when you wake up. i will no longer be a name on your favourites list. you will never call me “hun” again. and soon, my facebook page will no longer state that i’m in a relationship with you.
you told me that my leaving would leave a hole in your life. tonight, you opened a chasm. my heart feels as though it’s being ripped to pieces. i can’t breathe and i can’t cry and i can’t do anything.
tomorrow, i will smile and laugh and say “i’m fine” when people ask, which, they probably won’t. i will go to work and write and read and skype my mom and reply to e-mails and listen to sad songs and check my phone compulsively hoping you’ll text saying that you changed your mind too. that you can’t live without me. and it will be an endless cycle of hope and pain and loss, but mostly, it will be me struggling to be alone. mostly, it will be me being alone. and i’ll cry and go to bed and fall asleep and wake up and the cycle will continue until one day, i’ll wake up and it won’t hurt as much anymore.
and that’s the hope.
but… it doesn’t end with hope. because hope is the idea that… it never ends.