Confessions

I have a confession.

I'm not over my ex. 

And it has been more than a year since we split.



Why am I writing about this? I don't even know. Maybe it's just time to put it out there. Maybe this is that cathartic moment I need.

She and I were like, fire and ice; hot and cold. When it was good, it was perfect. When it was bad, all hell broke loose.

What I do know is that she is the only memorable person that I have yet to meet. She was the only reason that I changed my ways; pulling me out of a three year slump when my life was literally spinning out of control. When the partying, the drinking, the lack of faith, desire to accomplish, and the people; the many people and reckless situations I put myself in, was pushing me over the edge.


Like so many other people these days, we had met online. I was still in that party phase, where every girl I met was just another good time. The phase, that I seem to have fallen back into over the last year.


Through our few exchanges of e-mails, I was surprised at how open she was. And I, in cold and reckless way, decided that she would just be another notch on my belt. Neither of us wanted anything, after all she was leaving this city a few short weeks later for home. So when I propsed the idea of a fling, she didn't object. 


Our first "date" if you want to call it that, meant I had to pick her up. I got lost trying to find her and that broke the ice. We still laughed at it years later. That one hour coffee at 9am; just to meet and see if we wanted to jump in the sack the next time around, lasted until four in the afternoon. We walked the city. Talked about everything. And a connection was formed.


When I asked to see her again the following week, I told her that I was having second thoughts. I wanted to get to know her, instead of just sleeping with her. I was nervous. I was scared. I felt that instant connection.


She left for home and when I thought that was it, somehow, we both felt that we would see one another again. And we did, the following week. Weekends were spent traveling back and forth for almost a year.


I, a rigid Scorpio. She, a spontaneous Libra. We were either destined for greatness or like the story played out, disaster.


Her ambitions. Her outgoing personality. That's what drew me to her. My sensibility. My grounded sense of self and responsibility. That's what drew her to me. But, there was more to that. We were both damaged in so many ways. We shared a similar past. We were both, for a lack of a better word, twisted. We often hesitated to tell one another parts of our past for fear of rejection. But when it came out, we did our best to accept it, because we wanted one another. We had a facade on the outside. That perfect couple that was good in every way. On the inside, we shared a twisted sense of humor and alternative thoughts, feelings and desires. Where we could express and be ourselves, together.


We shared. Absolute comfort. In one another.


She was no princess. That I know. And I was no saint. More than once I thought about straying and the opportunities arose many times. I held fast to what I wanted. I wanted her.


When I think about her now all I feel is this incredible hate. Somewhere mixed into it, I know that a part of me still cares and loves her, even if I can't face her anymore. 

Our last argument has placed me where I am today. Where I told her that if a day came where she could face me and talk about it all; that a part of me would always be there to listen. That a part of me would consider trying anew. And her words, telling me to just stay out her life forever. Her words, I found out later, were just out of anger. Regardless of why she said it, it has been more than a year, and I refuse to intervene in any way. We are, just two strangers, who may happen to pass each other on the street these days. She does not exist.


Our demise was, in part, our personalities. And although we wanted the same things eventually, we wanted them at different times. My jealousy was too much, as I compared her to every other girl that hurt me. For she shared and had, similar issues as the rest. Even accidentally calling her by an ex's name once, because of something she did, that reminded me so much of the past. And my past took its toll on her.


It has been this, and only this, which over the last year or more, has kept me from actually accepting someone else. I compare. I search. For someone that I will have that same connection. Where our personal lives can personally align. Where, we accept one another for what and who we are, and were.

People think I'm cold. I'm stubborn. That I have no emotion what so ever. That's because I am, who I once was. It is often easier to create barriers to keep people out and keep control, instead of letting them in, and losing control.


I have a confession.

I must confess that I'm really not that person.

I must confess that the words I spoke that day, for me, still hold true.

I must confess that my life has been on a similar track as before, but have learned to mask it better.

I must confess that I miss her.


I must confess that it's time to finally let go of what was and start again.