She sent me a text message.
Robotic, disconnected, impersonal
Words received and redirected from another to me.
Words like; unfamiliar territory, no more contact, and most hurtful
A relationship is not something I can have in my life right now.
These words are engrained behind my eyes. Lingering in the space between my perception and my consciousness.
They have shifted in meaning numerous times as I cycled through my grief; extending through about two years of my mid twenties. Some before and some after, this message was the climax of our tainted love chronicle.
But this is a story within a story, as life so often is.
Today, I know that if she could have, she would have just told me she was scared.
But fear is never that simple.
It wears disguises, and blames those around us. And shame is more hurtful for the sorry than the other party.
One year ago today, she walked out of my life, silently.
Today, I sit in silence and thank her for all the moments we have shared, all the moments we have missed, and mostly for the opportunity to have new moments together.
A life in which text messages are not the only safe form of communication. Disconnected is only our choice to escape from the world outside in order to be more together.
Robotic is reserved for the machines, which we are decidedly not.
She left me less than human, and returned in the most beautifully put together human version of herself.
It is nice to have this human relationship.
It is nice to feel so humanly loved.
It is nice to know that I was somewhat capable of letting her go and rewire herself.
Connection is not something we can fabricate.
Connected to her was something I had always felt.
I could sense it when her life was moving in different spaces despite our no contact rule.
I missed her every day.
Trying my best to move on, only to discover that it was an illusion I had provided to myself through my own actions.