First Adult Heartbreak Pt. 3 – 85/100

A weird thing happened to me.

I was going through my Google Drive, sort of evading my to-do list.

I came across a Doc titled, write me a letter.

I couldn’t remember what it was, but as I double-clicked the icon, I had an inkling.

Once it loaded, my eyes hesitated at first, but then devoured the page.

It was a letter written by my ex, my First Adult Heartbreak (FAH) haha. We had an explosive start of the relationship that resulted in my world crumbling less than a year later.

As I read it, I almost couldn’t bear to go through all of it. Looking back on it, it touches me a different way. I realize that for me, human connection is a pretty normal thing. And I find that with every interaction, the percentage of encountering awesome-ass people that I want in my life rises.

But I don’t think I realized that it wasn’t as commonplace for him. I saw through the same words I had read years ago a different heart than the one I remembered. I knew that he really had cared and had received my attention and affection. But I don’t think I truly knew what it had meant.

I don’t mean to sound full of myself, as if he loved me so so so much lol. I just mean that we did the best we could and I know I really did care for him. And it causes some level of pain to wonder how he’s doing.

A couple months ago, I got the idea from a guy I went on a date with to contact my FAH and ask if he wanted to meet up and talk about what happened. The purpose was to create a meaningful and mature dialogue around something that had been important at one point in our lives.

At first, I crinkled my nose and thought, Nah, he would never respond. 

I felt that I knew him enough to assume that. But damnit, once that idea was planted in my mind, I couldn’t turn away. I knew it would be etched in my head until I did something.

It was an ordeal trying to find his contact info. He had deleted his profile or blocked me on Facebook and Instagram. After recovering from the possibility that he could have blocked me, I remembered I had his email. Duh.

So, I drafted an email. It was casual, short, and sweet.

I lay there in the dark (I had caved to writing the draft as I was trying to fall asleep – I knew I wouldn’t have a chance at sleeping until I wrote a draft) and my finger hovered over the paper airplane button a few seconds. It didn’t take much for me to press it. I had already written the damn thing and all I could think about was the possibility of reconciliation or just conversation.

It was worth it. And I wanted to believe that he had also matured and was able to talk about his feelings and thoughts. It hurt more to think I didn’t believe change was possible for him.

Months later, today, that email remains unreplied.

And I think it sort of adds to the sense of curiosity and emotion I got while reading that letter in my Google Drive.

Perhaps I’m just really foolish haha. Perhaps I have no pride or dignity. Perhaps. Or perhaps I don’t give a shit. And perhaps I wish the best for him. Perhaps I wish I could tell him my side of the story. And that I recognize that he did his best as I did mine.

But it is what it is.

So what is the weird thing that happened?

It’s the feels I got. After all these years. It’s the sense of wondering and hoping that he’s well – better than well. I hope he’s happy, truly, fully, deeply.

Also, I think I’m going to start my period soon.

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