It happened. It finally happened and I can tell you I was not expecting it to be this way in the slightest. After delivering my apology to her ...letterbox....it was the biggest weight lifted off my shoulders. Like I'd had a cement truck slowly pouring cement on me for 5 long years, getting heavier and heavier all the time but I always managed to build up just enough strength to keep my chest from caving in. I had no idea just how much cement had gathered, however, until I finally backed the truck up and took a shower. It was glorious. Walking down the sidewalk from her house, it was just beginning to drizzle and the air smelled fresh and I couldn't help but liken it to my own internal Spring Cleaning. If my emotional insides had a smell at that particular moment of soul freedom, it would be rain, wet sidewalk and sprouting greenery.
I sent her a Facebook message directly afterwards telling her that she had a "note" *cough* 7 page mini series *cough* waiting for her. I never heard back,not for 10 days. Pretending like I didn't go a little mad throughout that 10 days would be a lie because I started imagining situations in which she never actually received it. My biggest most irrational fear was of her dad getting to it first, opening it up, reading it and deeming it too difficult for his daughter to handle and throwing it away without another word, safe from her ever finding it. Of course this never happened. The other side to my nigh on insanity bout was that I held onto an altogether too optimistic future of possibilities regarding the letter's reception and subsequent reaction. Some part of me wanted to keep me mentally sounds, however, because I never let myself fully imagine what might happen. Half formed and blurry thoughts would fleetingly pass through my mind, providing nothing but wordless fuel for the strange optimism I felt. I never let myself get too hopeful, though. Give me a break; I'm not that reckless.
But today she finally replied. After sending her a blunt, almost rude, "yea....so did you get it?" via Facebook once again, she replied with probably the most crushing response I, thank God, couldn't never have imagined on my own.
It's good you can get that off your chest
And I hope you can move forward.
I don't hold any resentment towards you anymore.
I've been over that whole situation for years and haven't thought about it in ages. so I really am the Sad One out of the two of us. Nice to have that confirmed.
The person you remember doesn't exist anymore. I'd like to vomit, now, thanks.
I've changed a lot and moved on with my life
And hopefully now you can too.
I just hope you realize I still won't ever be able to be friends with you. yep. definitely time to vomit. everywhere and perpetually.
But I do not wish you any harm and hope you can live a
Happy and full life. why even say this? You may as well find the nearest sledge hammer and bash my ankles in with it for all the happiness I'll feel after this blow. Stop being nice. It isn't what I want to hear. I want you to hate me. That, or you physically poking me in the eye balls for half an hour with Miley Cyrus wailing in the background. Anything would be infinitely better than THIS. Anything but this. Please.
But then he spoke to me. And I listened. And I spoke back and he remained. Listening.
It's a kind of closure I've never felt before. Up until now, I have never been able to truly have it, not really. I'm almost certain it has everything to do with the fact that it isn't in my control anymore. Not even slightly. Lauren is who I hurt, and as such she had every right to set the terms for our afterlives. If this is what she needs, then so be it. I accept. I will fight no longer. I will dream no longer. I am done. I am at peace.
And I understood the meaning of bittersweet.
The sweetness is brought on by what I'm starting to realize is my new Lauren. A better one, if that's even possible. The term "Lauren" is no longer a proper noun to me. I am dead to her and that's what I needed. Lauren is now a common noun, a personal synonym of Love. It took losing my first to realize just what it was I would be looking for in another, later on. It isn't romantic, it isn't dramatic, it is merely the complete opening of my Self and soul to another, and in turn not being afraid, not even in the slightest. The absence of fear is where love has found its roost. Lauren needed to let me let go of her. I needed her to rip off my water wings and pop them with pins before I could trust myself to not only float, but to swim.
And so I dove.
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