Writing Exercise

"Your last words still haunt me, do you know that"?

"And It's ironic because you told me to do the opposite of whatever it is I'm doing now".

I recently heard of this technique for sorting your feelings out with people you don't or can't talk to anymore. First, you express your feelings out loud as yourself. Then, you put yourself in their shoes and do the same. In other words, you pretend to be them and reply to what you (as yourself) vented out. 

Up until now, I've always kept this hypothetical conversation between me and her in my mind. 

It's making me feel stupid.

I just want closure.

Have you ever been so close to someone that having them in your life feels just as natural as breathing? 

Or perhaps they're the person who knows all of your disgusting secrets, but still chooses to love you for the incredibly flawed individual you truly are? 

It's a comforting feeling to have someone like that in your life.

Suddenly you don't feel like a total loser because someone who isn't your parents genuinely loves you. It's a love that is earned through time and trust. 

I miss it. I really do. 

"What you did really hurt. It took every fiber of my being to leave it at that." 

I have a harder time talking to myself in her shoes. 

She always showed an unfathomable amount of control over her emotions in times like these.

It was rare to see her "freak out". When she did (if you can even call it that), she'd just sound extremely frustrated with me.

One time, she did take a cheap jab at me but later on apologized for it. 

I don't have the best relationship with my family. She'd hear stories about my struggles in dealing with them over the years.

That one time, she said maybe I was the problematic one, after all. 

Even after she apologized I feel like she had a point. 

I miss her honesty. 

Many people would use words like "blunt" to describe how forward someone can be. 

But not her. Her honesty was comparable to being stabbed in the gut with a chef's knife.

Her words were like the blade itself. The sensation of the warm blood gushing from the wound were the reality that the words would bring. A painful comfort.

She'd never twist the knife while it was in you, she wasn't that mean. 

"Why did you do it?"

No, I don't think she'd ever ask me that.

She'd know I'd eventually explain myself without her needing to ask.

If she had asked before we parted ways, I think my answer would've been different. 

That day I was overflowing with jealousy to the point where it felt like anguish.

I felt like a long abandoned toy that no longer brought amusement to its owner, but they didn't want to throw it away either. 

Maybe you have a stuffed animal that has seen better days, but you cannot bring yourself to wash it and sew the torn areas back together again.

It felt like that. "I did not feel entertaining anymore. I did not feel like I mattered. I felt trapped and when I needed you, when I really needed you, you weren't fucking there. 

It made me jealous how popular you were; how often you met people. It made me upset that you would actually attempt to spend time with everyone you knew".

I wanted to say that maybe she cares too much. Does that even sound like a sane thing to say to someone? 

That maybe, just maybe, you care too much about everyone else and not ... me? 

At least, that's what I would've said back then.

After a lot of thought, I realized that I wasn't much better.

Six years ago, she asked me if I was okay with a particular aspect about her.

Six years ago, I lied to myself and said I was okay with it. 

Six years ago, I began to hold her to an unachievable standard that only existed in my mind. 

When she failed to meet that standard, I'd lash out. 

Likewise, there were times I failed to meet her standards and I could sense her disappointment in me. 

In a way, I think it was beautiful that we thought so highly of each other, but the reality was something we probably had trouble dealing with. 

It was then I realized that we're both essentially the same person.

Conceptually, we don't like being held down. We love and enjoy our freedom. 

We both love meeting people and wandering the world to the point where it stings because the other isn't there. We would feel uneasy at the thought of someone whisking the other away. 

"There were probably better ways to do it", I answer myself. 

I try to scoff in the way she remembers me doing, but it's uneasy and awkward and it feels like I'm holding back a flood of emotions behind my expression.

There's a part of me that believes she arrived at the same conclusion that I have. I can almost feel her embracing me and apologizing saying that I didn't need to go through all of that.

A huge flaw of her is that she'd always cover for me. She'd always share the blame for something I started. And I can see her sharing the blame for this too.

Her final words to me were to keep going and not look back.

If she had said something hurtful, things would've been much easier. She knows I'm a nostalgic person. 

"I still think about you despite, that". 

She probably knows. I can feel her scoff back at me. 

Not one that likes to dwell on sad, emotional topics for too long, I can suddenly hear her say "Hey, guess what?"

And just like old times, I'd hear her snap her fingers and then ... she was gone, off wandering the world again.