Dear Unknown Lover,
There’s more to my story you should know before we meet.
You see, in another life I had my dream girl. The potential for a white picket fence. The whole story that we fantasize about through movies. I remember the emotions, happiness and hope for the future like it was yesterday.
But it wasn’t yesterday. And we’re not together anymore. I still think about what went wrong daily. The moment the nightly phone calls and daily texts stopped.
I remember the moment the knife cut into me. I didn’t start bleeding, but knew it would be pulled out when I least expected it.
Knowing you’re heart is going to be ripped is an out of body experience. Time stood still as I waited for the conversation sealing the fate of our once so happily ever after.
But don’t feel bad for me. This story of heartbreak was the result of my own action (or lack thereof).
I was caught up in chasing a prestigious career, I lost sight of the most distinguished part of my life. Her. Long days and nights of work lead to missed dinners, concerts and connections.
To make up for it, my means took over; weekend flights, extravagant getaways and endless bottles were my vehicle to fill her void. Like putting a gorgeous painting in front of a spot of black, it made things look perfect to onlookers, but her pain grew and spread by the day.
What she needed was the intangible. My heart, my thoughts and mind. Instead, she got insults and arguments. Emotional abandonment and the appearance of a drunken fool.
She’s better off now. Blazing her own trail. The trail I never gave her credit for. And she’s better off because of it.
I try to think I’m better off now too.
I just can’t help thinking about the dreams we had. The southern home, the weekend getaways.
I have the southern house. But it’s not a home. I have endless weekend getaways, but they begin to blur.
One day this house will become a home.
I’m just not there yet.