to your love

"here's another speech you wish I'd swallow. another cue for you to fold your ears. another train of thought too hard to follow. chuggin' along to a song that belongs to the shifting of gears." -fiona apple

there was a moment when our eyes locked and I saw just how insignificant I am now. I hoped there was still a chance, but that look in your eyes said we are ruptured beyond repair. I reminded myself not to jump to any conclusions, but then your mouth said that you don't want to hear my feelings anymore. that was a painful thing to hear. but I will honor that request as a final act of love for you.

the thing is, I have some feelings to share with myself (and the world), so you need to stop reading this now.

“how are you feeling?” we say it conversationally even when we don't really care, “how are you?” “fine. and you?” BUT you were texting it to me! every fucking day. even after watching me cry all evening. why would you ask how I am feeling when you didn't want to know? at one point I thought you were gaslighting me, but now I think you hoped I would respond with, "oh i’m good now. sorry for the whole freaking out about still being in love with you thing. how's your day?" instead when I would reply with, "I am the same. I am hurt and sad. I am in love with you and you think that I am lying,” and you’d say nothing. or the best (!!) was the reply, “in other news,” letting me know you’d be late paying bills.

my therapist read from some old session notes over the last few weeks, and I was reminded that my queerness had nothing to do with the pause (and ultimate end) of our sex life. and then the chef's kiss moment was when you gave a repeat performance last weekend, and I was smacked in the face with the memories of our historical arguments. it was as if my therapist had the perfect handoff for your touchdown! we are both broken. in different ways. we have somehow made it this far while we try to navigate each other's emotional wellbeing, but my tiptoeing around the trauma and hurt that you’re rightfully carrying is exhausting. especially when i’m also trying to hold onto the teeter totter of your ups (smothering) and downs (ignoring and jealousy of my cats).

the real "in other news" was learning that you thought our relationship ended earlier than me, making me appear nuts. but even with your different timeline and recalling the conversational traffic circle that we were stuck in last weekend, it is clear that the word lesbian is what broke your heart and you cannot see anything I am desperately trying to share. all because of a word I claimed on september 2, 2024.

(oh, I can't confirm because you deleted our memories from the family calendar, but it must have been exactly nine years after telling you that I was bisexual and you'd be the last man I would ever date. our first date was september 18, 2015 and I am sure we texted for a bit before that. if my girl math is mathing.)

anyway! now I have vivid memories of how it was bad before you started therapy - conversations like traffic circles, bringing up the past while continually refuting that you are hurt, and triggering each others bullheaded and stubborn traits. so now I want to say:

i’m annoyed that you are older than me but can't stay in therapy so you can have difficult conversations. yeah, this is fucking hard and confusing because relationships are hard and confusing. and when you say they should be easy, it is an immature way of thinking because a true partnership is bringing people together with their inevitable past traumas.

if we were truly in it together before, we would have learned how to love each other while honoring our pain and suffering.

so yeah, you can be big mad at me for still being in love with you. say that you think i am lying. you can even rage to your family because I told you I am a lesbian and said we should date other people only to then say just kidding! I want you.

tell everyone how awful it is of me to ask for another chance. please.

and I wont even tell you how I feel about any of it.