Walk by the river

I cleared away the rolled up tissues, and into the bin they went. The tears and snot have since dried, the conversation and connection we had last night seemed like a long, long time ago. The roses I gave him a few days earlier have wilted, and drooping with heavy, sunken heads.

Three hours, maximum four I slept. Initially I snug off into the room next door to sleep, but he followed me next door and lay next to me. A little after ten I woke up, and got up, leaving him to sleep as I went away and meditated.

He was weak, and broke down again. I was not feeling bitter, not angry, and that sense of hurt, betrayal even, even though it still lingered, I had slowly let go. I comforted him, in my capacity as a friend now, a friend who cares for another friend’s happiness and wellbeing. I didn’t want to leave it just like that, leave him feeling more guilt-ridden, towards me, towards the entire akwardness of the situation, towards all the people involved in the romance/love-triangle. So I braced myself, put on a ‘friend’ face, and took a long, long walk with him to his favourite place by the river side. For a while, we talked, smiled, joked, like friends would do. For a while, we were just that, friends.

By the river I sat, with him a few rocks to the right of me. That was when the silence descended upon us. Silence, brought on by the roar and growl and fury of the rowdy river as it tumbled, twisted and turned a rough, rough path downstream. I closed my eyes in meditation, tried to calm my thoughts, tried to absorb the positive energies of the sun, of the beautiful day, tried to listen and comprehend the chatter of birds above the background of the mighty, mighty river flowing before me. But I did not understand a thing. I could not comprehend what was happening. 

Images of my dad face flashed across my mind... images of mum, imaginations of the face and figure of the person who so captivated my boyfriend within such a short time, images and memories of the beautiful time he shared with me, even just the day before while we peddled and peddled on our bikes in the sunset... So many images, so many images, so conflicting, so beautiful, so surreal, so dangerous and hurtful.

Tears started to shed down my face, and drip onto the hard, hard rocks beneath me. Tears that splashed and sprayed to become indistinguishable from all the water in the river. In silence we walked, saying only the necessary, while most of the way the only sound was the chatter of our footsteps, and the  playful tag of our mutual shadows. 

Back at home, just before he was about to leave, he could not leave just like that. It was difficult to watch, to be a part of, to see him so broken and torn and sobbing with such grief and pain. I never wanted to hurt him, or to add to his sense of guilt or confusion. But I wanted, I needed him to understand how hurt I am by all this.... by the back and forth banter between him and the other person ever since they reconnected after the concert, by the fact that I have for such a long time been made to feel so insecure about my own ability to open up myself to make him happy and feel loved (and now I know that I left him wanting...), by the fact that despite wanting to be with me, there are still feelings for the other person that has resulted in much hesitation and skepticism in our relationship...

But I must take a portion of the responsibility, for having kept him waiting for so long, for putting him in a situation to have to choose, for withholding my own emotions, when for a long time all he wanted was an acknowledgement that I felt something for him (which I did, but never admitted...). And he himself had been conflicted, wounded by a hurtful breakup that lasted over a year, and was probably not in a state to dive into something deep and meaningful, certainly not with someone (me) he had loved and admired from a distance, whom he only recently could get much closer to. 

He wanted time to think, to reflect and think things through, and he said he'd get back to me in a few weeks or a month or so. At this point, at this very moment, I have simply resigned myself to fate. At this point, I no longer wish to compete for his affection, I no longer wish to try and try any longer to make him feel special and loved and cared for. Maybe my feelings will change, maybe I'll miss him dearly, miss and long for the wonderful, beautiful bond we have together that no one has so far managed to match in my life. We were after all, friends first and foremost before becoming lovers... It will be hard to let go, to completely close myself up, even though my instinct now is to do exactly that.

Maybe it's self-protection, maybe it's me erecting my barriers up again to insulate myself from pain and hurt I have been exposed to as a child.... But I feel myself closing up, feel me retreating and forsaking all that we have shared and come to cherish and find comfort in, because I no longer can deal with the roller coaster ride of jealousy, having to please, having to compete for someone else's affection... I returned his apartment key, and we said goodbye. We hugged, a long, long hug, during which I patted his back, stroked his body, felt the warmth of his touch, sniffed in his scent that for so long has been so mesmerising to my nose and senses. I turned to give him a brush of our cheeks. And the front door shut between us.

How do I feel now? Drained of emotions, saddened and hurt, and unsure how being alone again will affect my mind and my body, unsure how I am to cope with the new situation, when I don't even intend to tell anyone, least of all our mutual friends, about our abrupt breakup. 

How do I feel now? Strangely, calm and reserved, or perhaps that is all a temporary illusion? Strangely, deep inside, I feel for him, feel his pain and hurt, even though some of it is incomprehensible. Deep inside, I wish so badly I can take away his pain, wipe away his tears and tell him that things will be ok after a while, for these emotions, like all things, will come to pass. I wish I could hold him, rock him gently and reassure him that I am not angry at him, not at all. I wish I could calm him down, like he has calmed me down many times before, in this  obvious period of need.

But I don't know if my presence, if my very sight, is the reason why he feels so sad and so torn. However I wish to hold and touch his hand, I fear I could only prolong his pain and confusion, especially at a time when he needs the time and space to reflect... I so wish I could comfort him, stop him from crying, stop him from sobbing and feeling so tormented, and provide him with a calm mind with no regrets or remorse... 

Fare well, my lover, fare well, my friend...