We were both lying in bed together, and the words we were both thinking came out of my mouth.
“We’re never going to be together, are we?”
He looked over at me; one of those looks that bore into your soul.
He looked away and up at the ceiling. We both did. “We’ve just been through too much now,” he says. “We’re just too far gone.”
Too far gone. That refers to four years of on and off, of constantly treating each other like shit. We took advantage of our “love” for each other. If you could really even call it that. And we just always expected to find our way back to each other, despite all our damage.
We would do awful things and assume the other person would forgive. Because that’s always how it went. So confident in our love for each other that we’d punish each other for it. Punish and then forgive. But I guess we could never forget. A tug-of-war on who could hurt each other more and then come grovelling back.
But there always laid an assumption that we would forgive each other. I found myself so heart-wrenchingly devoted that I felt that we’d always come back.
And we continued this mess of disrespect, and mistreatment until we went too far. We couldn’t go back to how it was. We’d lost each other. And even in our attempt to find our way back to each other, we knew it would never be the same.
We were too far gone.
It’s years later, and I’ve moved on. I’ll still see him from time to time, and those times remind me exactly what it was that I saw in him. And I remember what it felt like to be so incredibly entangled in another person.
But that’s all in the past.
And there’s new relationships. Better ones. Stable, and safe, and full of undoubting love for each other.
Something that lacked with him.
But with him there was fire. Passion. And you hated the person just as much as you loved them. And even though it was awful, it was…fiery love. And even when it’s awful, it’s beautiful to care for someone in such a heart-stopping, butterfly-inducing way.
And even though you move on, you sometimes find yourself lingering on the thought of them. Of mutual destruction and the bitterness of what never could have been.