He didn’t.

I open my eyes. It’s a morning rush that surrounds me until I understand that it is one fine rainy Wednesday. I do not work on Wednesdays. I try to go back to sleep but the sound of the rain feels like it is calling my name with every drop that falls on my air conditioner that stands in front of my window. What am I to do even if I do finally open my eyes to follow the rain drops? I try again to fall back to sleep harder this time.  

I wonder how long it will take for me to actually change into something less comfortable than my pijamas to make coffee. I can’t stay with my pajamas on while not sleeping. Little things like that are left to me to fight with every day since we broke up. It has been almost 3 years now since we broke up. No one said we were not dating anymore, we just stopped out of the blue. My theories, my latest text messages dictate I was not the one to do so, but him. He left me silently unlike the other guys I had dated before him. What is more, I tried to raise my voice in a way to say, “Hey, why don’t we talk anymore? We are still dating, right?”, yet I would have asked this for it all to get lost in the great mastery words of his pitchblack void space that is full of his silent words. No response ever received again.

I choose to wear a pair of leggings with a black shirt that has a picture of a vinyl picture on it. As I stand in front of the mirror, the picture of a vinyl takes me back to the time when we were playing a song in his car, in which event  we both wished we had been home to dance more freely rather than his car. Nevertheless , when we finally had arrived home after a long ride we did no dancing, but argued about the stupidest things. I packed my things, he did not beg me to stay. Vividly, I recall it had all started because he told me I was no woman like his mom, hence useless. His mom cooked, showed affection, loved helping people, enjoyed his company, and believed in the power of a family. He said I was no woman like his mother, hence cold. I made my argument points such as growing up in a different generation than his mom, his mom not working, her having all the time to herself and him, background to cook such amazing dishes and mostly my argument points were based on how his mom and I shared different family backgrounds. He brought up his points such as his mom this, then his mom that. I wanted to leave. We never danced that day but stayed in deep silence. I stayed. It was a rainy day just like today. 

I make coffee in the midst of all hope that gives chills to my body. It had to be this way. He probably had another girl anyways, just like my ex before him. Altogether, we were not meant to be. If we did, we would have known. Since we had broken up, I quit  smoking. He would be so proud of me if he could see me enjoying my morning coffee without any cigarettes. He did not smoke. He fought me every single time I smoked a cigarette. Once during one of our vacations, he made me cry by cursing at me and kicking me out of his car in the middle of nowhere I did not know at all because I smoked. The reason was the ash from my cigarette magically going into his eye when he was the one to tell me that I should smoke and enjoy the trip that we were taking in his convertible . He ended up  kicking me out. I kicked the cigarette out of my hand. He threw  words at me  endlessly. This was not about my cigarette but his anger for everything back at home. He kicked me out of his car. I relentlessly stayed. It was a rainy day in Miami just like today.

Anyways I need some music to take my focus out of him. I play my playlist. I make sure it is the one that I can sing along with. There are all sorts of songs there for each mood but instead of choosing the song for my mood, I let a song decide what my mood should be. Luckily, the song had already caught up with my mood without my intentions. “Same Damn Life” right after “How Did You Love?” from Shinedown. Usually never does my shuffle playlist play one song after another from the same artist, but what happened today is a question that I choose not to raise. I go ahead to sing my heart out, carelessly. 

“No one gets out alive, every day is do or die.
The one thing you leave behind is
How did you love, how did you love?” …

Photo by Jernej Graj on Unsplash

Well, relationships come and go. New becomes old in no time. Two becomes three, three goes back to square one. It is important to visit the past memories not to slap ourselves in the face because it was our fault , but to pat ourselves in the back to realize it was the best decision we made in order to learn one fine heck of a lesson. We should appreciate it was in the past because we no longer need to deal with that specific person or situation anymore. I decide not to ponder on this anymore, rather play some Marley and see what life has in store for me today. Who knew the sun would come out again, rain would stop suddenly and the rainbow would show up on a fine rainy day like today?

May your memories fade away like the rainy days and leave their way to the sun that warms your hearts.

Let me know what you think about this post.

Breakup Letter to You and My Self- Indulgences

Who could have known?

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Maybe we could have been happier. Nevertheless, that could have been impermanent. All the hope- call it “spark” is gone out there somewhere in the mist of an ocean that is wide, endless and dark. It is not swimming against the current as it usually happens in the romance movies and books, neither is it fighting for its own free existence anymore. It has vanished somewhere at the bottom of nowhere in the grand vast dark and blue ocean. Don’t think it might still be found one random day by some scuba divers as it was the case with Titanic, because again this is no movie. 

Fire burned it- our passion for each other- into little unseen ashes, then flew it towards the air; from where it had gone to the ocean, perhaps. Therefore, you can find the ashes of little pieces where there is no restoration possible, ever. This is not Titanic after all. All it can and it will be is memories in our heads for awhile, then possibly soon enough will it be left to the wolves to be eaten out there in the wild. We will move on. Memories will be left behind. Ashes will be stirred up, waves in the oceans will be moved; nothing floats everything drowns.

This is how it is done. There is no going back. As the saying goes, where there is will there is way. No one mentioned the outcomes when there is no will, yet it is not that easy to figure out. If there is no will power, there is no power in whatever it is. For us it was “us”. For you, it is “you”. For me it is nothing but questions these days. Goodbyes can be the echoes of ashes for now, in which you might see contact here and there. Then, the contact will disappear as well. Life is the totality of all that there is right? All that “there was” moments take place in the past tense. We are past tense. We were tense. Now we are tense in the past. 

Great to be alive though.

Patterns only make us aware of more patterns. Once one is broken it is a hope that we get to break the others without realizing that we are burning the bridges to build new ones, breaking patterns to create new ones. Therefore, here I write on a notepad all that there is and there was about us so then I can build my own bridges soon enough, then maybe to burn them to build new ones with someone else. At the exact moment though, I can assure that my own bridges will take awhile to be built up again. Burning them, not considering their importance to self and believing in the possibility of impossible love stories, I am torn. Time can only help but it is not the medicine I need. It is me, the greater will power in me and the higher power that is bigger than me. In that power I trust, becoming a new pattern in my own shell is the greatest gift that I could ever give to self, my self. The only self I really have. Little love, little peace of mind and just the right amount of hope will just do me fine. 

Self- courage is the teacher I love the most among the others. It gets me in trouble when it whispers me to go for a new person in a relationship, but afterwards it does not waste no time to heal me to make me better than any healers I could pay, stronger and self- effective. Now that it is time to move on to me, I can only get excited. All I need is new playlists, new songs, new photo albums and new breakfasts. By the time I am me again, I shall see the light at the end of the tunnel called, “relationship”.

How could I have known one day my patterns would have given me a chance to explore more than there was? Thank you love. Thank you the Highest of all the High Powers.

Lastly, thankful for “my sleeping” patterns: NOW IT IS THE TIME THAT I let go. I wake up. I am ready to receive. 

Good bye!