Heartbreak

Today is the first time I’ve ever cried. That is, it’s the first time my heart has been broken. Sure I’ve had relationships which I’ve cared for the other quite deeply. However, my heart shattered—rock through a window—with an email.

I’m not going to give you all the back story. Just know that we are locked in a perpetual state of almost. I thought that we moved into finally but his work intervened and took us back to almost. There was a week of communication darkness. I had to fill in the blanks with justifications. He’s busy, working hard. New York time is different than California time. Not just in time zones but New York has its own center of gravity which makes the universe move quicker when inside. All you can do to survive is to hold on.

I watched as my heart it started the spaghettification process. Pieces pulled painfully as one week turned to two. An email confirming my justifications, yet promises in the not so far future. He’ll be in town for the weekend. I offer up myself. I don’t mind forgoing my trip to San Francisco if I can spend it with him. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for the stars to align letting us develop from mentor and friend into committed relationship.

He wants me to go to San Francisco. “A well needed rest for you,” he says. A hairline fracture splintered in my heart. I do as he suggests, I always do.

It’s Monday and back to New York he goes. Transmissions garbled. Communication lost. All systems dark and another week slipped by. I know he reads my emails but I’ve never wanted to be ‘that’ girl. That girl, which emails every day, sometimes twice a day to show affection. It reads desperate, even if that’s how I feel, I don’t. He doesn’t need my ego stroking. However, I do email conveying my support of what he’s doing. In the long run it will be good for me too. I show that I’m functioning well without him, as I know it would make him proud. Another week of darkness passes. I’m dangling precariously on a mental chasm trying to figure out what to do. His name pops into my phone, a new email. He’s in London.

He explains away his absence, which is perfectly understandable. However, the third sentence confirms my fear. “I think I need to focus on this now, if I spend the next few months…I have really set everything in motion for what I have always wanted.” Tears well up, “I am sorry this was not what I had planned for us, I had great plans.” So did I. “Things shifted a bit, I cannot ask you to wait.”

The letter goes on; it is a magnificent ‘I love you but…’ letter. Tears, which I do not show to anyone, flow freely. I didn’t think words could hurt that much.

I tell him I’ve been seeing someone. A half truth, I don’t think there is a man in the work that can make me feel as good as he did. But I wanted my words to hurt too. Words, at this point, are all I have. But he sees through the thinly veiled attempt. He knows it’s not true. And I confess that no matter who I am with, I will always want him.