Community//

Past. Present. Future.

My heart, I believe, stopped for a second. I stopped breathing. It was like the first time I saw him but reverse. A feeling of excitement and possibility didn’t wash over me but paralyzing shock and a bit of nausea. It was the first time I saw him since we ended things. Funny that it […]

My heart, I believe, stopped for a second. I stopped breathing. It was like the first time I saw him but reverse. A feeling of excitement and possibility didn’t wash over me but paralyzing shock and a bit of nausea. It was the first time I saw him since we ended things. Funny that it was in a place where we once had one of our best nights together. I was there for a business meeting and he was at the bar, at a work meeting. I know this because of his industry and well, you can tell these things. He looked the same but when I saw him I was filled with nostalgia, anger, sadness, nothing? everything?

I looked away and sat down. My client was due to arrive any moment and the last thing I wanted was to be distracted. It’s a weird thing. Someone I was once so intimate with, someone I was falling in love with and now – we don’t even speak. I texted my best friend immediately. “The asshole is here.” He knew who I meant.

“You’re glistening in the sun right now. You are amazing, don’t give him the time of day. Fuck him. Not literally. He’s a D-bag.” It’s what I needed to hear.

It’s not like I would have. Never. But I believe there is always this magnetic pull to someone you were once so close to. Someone you laid in bed with and talked about life with. Someone you let your guard down with, laughed all night with, got drunk with, shared cozy mornings with, watched cheesy cooking shows with over breakfast and coffee – maybe it’s my personality, but even if someone has been a complete asshole to me, as angry as I am, I’m also a human and I tend to remember the good times. Sometimes, I need to remember to remember the shit times. To remember that he didn’t know how good he had it. To remember that we were not meant to be. To remember how confused and hurt he made me feel most of the time. To remember that I was his placeholder, as hard as that is to say. But also remember that I am better off and to not give him any more thought.

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