You and I were never meant to be easy.
We didn’t love gently or simply. There were no lazy Sunday mornings and no sleepy, half awake kisses. There was no hand holding and no ‘this just feels right’ moments. There was no staring softly into each other’s eyes from across a crowded room with a little ‘just between us’ smile.
Nothing about us was ever soft, ever delicate, ever easy.
We were loud and destructive. We would break things for a reaction and stare each other down to see who would give in first. We were challenging and messy and always full of excuses. When one of us would take a step forward, the other would retreat back. We were never meant to be simple.
We were never good mornings because to have a good morning you have to stay the night. We were never just between us smiles because there was never really an us to begin with. We were never holding hands because one of us was always pulling away.
We were never a label because we were never an anything.
Because truthfully? You and I were never meant to be labeled.
At least, that’s what I think I’m finally realizing.
I think in life we’re presented with endless opportunities. We come across many roads with many junctions and it’s up to us to figure out which ways we want to turn.
And for whatever reason, you and I were always picking a different path.
Instead of following in suit, instead of reaching out and saying, “Come with me”, we’d hurl ourselves down a different road and just keep shouting at each other in the distance. Instead of walking together hand in hand we were jolting off in opposite directions as fast as we could. And then we’d collide again and again and talk about how stupid we were to begin with.
But it was a viscous cycle.
It was a viscous cycle because as I’m finally realizing, I could never force you to choose me. And I don’t think I really wanted to anyway.
See, the thing I loved most about you was that I knew in the back of my mind that I could never have you. I knew that you would always do what you wanted and in your own way, encourage me to do the same. I think what I loved most about you is that we both accepted the inevitable expiration, and never tried to change it.
But these days, I’m done running. I’ve slowed down and actually paused for a moment to look behind me.
And even though I know you’re not going to be there, sometimes I wish you were.
I think in life we’re presented with endless opportunities. We come across many roads with many forks and it’s up to us to figure out which ways we want to turn. In this life, I went left and you went right. Then later you would go right while I would steer left. Countless times you were zigging when I was zagging and we’d keep smacking into each other.
This last time though, I went left and you stayed right. I kept running and you decided to stay put. This last time of going one way when you were going somewhere else really was the last time. There was no collision at the end.
And I think that’s because we were eventually meant to stop colliding.
But maybe there’s another lifetime out there. Maybe there’s another universe or another place where when the chances we had to pick each other, to really choose each other presented themselves, we said okay. When I fell asleep you stayed. When you looked at me, I smiled. When we reach for the other’s hand, there it was.
Maybe there’s another lifetime where we stopped running away, and ran towards each other instead.
In this lifetime I don’t think we were meant for easiness and labels. But maybe there’s one where we were. Maybe there’s a me out there who thought about going left, but saw you chose right and followed behind. Maybe there’s a me out there who said, “Let’s go this way,” and you actually agreed.
And when that me looks back, instead of seeing nothingness, there you are.
And even though it may not be this life, I still think that’s beautiful.