one year ago today was the last time we spoke. i remember not only because it was my best friend’s birthday, not only because it was the last time i drank tequila, not only because of the worst hangover i’ve had in my life. i remember it, mostly, because of the pain in my chest when i woke up after falling asleep on the phone and barely remembering what i had said. i told myself i was the screw up. again. that it was my fault. i remember my text the other day apologizing. i remember that the reply was i had no right to tell you if you loved me or not. and in that moment i agreed, i could only see guilt.
i remember specifically riding the bus to my hometown and thinking/feeling “if the bus crashes, i want to die, because i don’t deserve to live anymore”. i remember that. and also the fact i had tried to compare what was bottling up inside me during that week and when i did, the only thing that came up to my mind was “i think this is how you feel when you kill someone and regret it”. i told my therapist that hours later. as i did, i thought “my brother was killed, therefore i have strong feelings on assassination, perhaps one of the worst things you can do to another human being, and yet me calling her while drunk and vomiting (literally and verbally) is somehow comparable to that for me in this moment”.
i then thought of redemption. and how i was yearning for it. this feeling i remember perfectly. i thought: what would it be like if i was actually forgiven for doing this? surely, i’ve had forgiven worst things done to me. but the scale never balances itself. my therapist said: “you weren’t saying ‘i know you don’t love me’, you were saying ‘i feel i am not loved by you’. weren’t you feeling like you weren’t loved? feeling is knowing“. but once again, i wasn’t understood.
and then time goes by. you try to forgive yourself – you actually do, for some things -, you go to work, you meet friends, the routine starts coming back, you fill in (some of) the voids, you color, you keep going to therapy because it’s what keeps you sane, you read things in order to sooth yourself, you bump into things that still bring some memories, you have good & bad days, you draw, you listen to music, you occasionally wonder – because that’s all you allow yourself to do.
5 days ago you see her again. it’s less than 10 seconds. some weird Closer shit, if you are the kind to beat yourself up about it, except you’re with your parents and is paralyzed to do anything during the moment. you still wave, because you are capable of that. and then, when you are home in bed in the dark, you think: would i even go up the rolling stairs if i were alone?
although i keep that question until now in my head, i do not dare to answer it.
there are, in fact, a lot of questions i do not dare to seek answers. i know i will one day, i know some are answered already and everything is a long process. i sometimes just wanted to know if it has an ending, an explanation; redemption.
listening while writing: Adele – Hello (classroom instruments version)