*( listen to Mumford and Son's cover of Unfinished Business while reading this )*
Excuse this, but holy shit. I'm a damn near pioneer for the shit I pulled to take the bullet. No, scratch that. If a masked gunman by the name of Calamity held a gun that required fingerprint recognition to function, those fingerprints read aloud would say "indecision" and the hammer would be the confines of supposed time, the barrel would be the words of her peers, and the bullet would be crested with the word Self-Doubt as I did not only take the hit, but about grabbed the masked mans arms, guided it into my mouth, and squeezed the trigger for him because I was tired of him wasting precious time with excessive aiming. She said "we needed to talk", and I'm no idiot. I knew full well what it meant and met it more than half way. I did not only set a time and place for it, but also a mood and itinerary. I planned and all but carried out the dumping for her. I took control of what little I could. I made it almost fun. To the point that I wouldn't blame another girl for dumping me if she knew the fun that came ahead. I did all that I absolutely could to take away the sting of guilt she might have felt for not being able to commit to me the way I did for her, and not having the desire to learn along the way like I'd hoped. And anything left unsaid. And left a lot of emotions unexplored. Why? Because there was no point anymore. I would gain nothing. Get this, I made a note In my phone, and had a planned speech complete with cheery music and jokes. The works, all to facilitate my ex communication from her life and make it seamless. Because quite frankly I'd already felt quite a lot of pain in the days leading up to the ordeal and felt anything more was unnecessary. No amount of tears I made her cry or emptiness I'd make her feel would ever bring us back together. So I took up both my own emotions and the weight of her own that she never expressed, and everything else about the end of our relationship, all the dysfunction, and evenly displaced it on either side of the yoke I'd hand crafted. And I shouldered it until the moment she left and I hugged her goodbye. It's a shame that we laughed and smiled in the banter of that cool spring eve more genuinely than we had in weeks. I started to miss her the instant my hands on her back released and no longer felt the rise and fall of her ribs.
*(cue song switch to You've Got A Way by Fall Walk Run )*
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....And I don't think that makes me a great person, or a special person. And I couldn't care less about people commending me for this. I just truly hope and pray that when she sits down and thinks about these things ( as she goes about and accomplishes great things for herself that I had previously hoped I could witness) she sees and realizes all this. How meticulous I was in all that I did. And in her silence, maybe in a small nod, or an acknowledging eye contact, thanks me. It would mean a whole lot.
*( Change now to Next Year by Two Door Cinema Club )*
P.S. I made her promise that she would still come see me in college. Now, given the promises we'd broken our track record isn't the best, but it's something to look forward to and hold on to. So, hold on I will. I look forward to the day that we meet again, which for some reason I feel we inevitably will even if the college visits fall through, and the chats we will have encompassing all that's come to pass and the accolades we've each acquired. The highs and lows we each have had to ride out, unpredictability of life, and even 401k's, all over some coffee.
Excuse this, but holy shit. I'm a damn near pioneer for the shit I pulled to take the bullet. No, scratch that. If a masked gunman by the name of Calamity held a gun that required fingerprint recognition to function, those fingerprints read aloud would say "indecision" and the hammer would be the confines of supposed time, the barrel would be the words of her peers, and the bullet would be crested with the word Self-Doubt as I did not only take the hit, but about grabbed the masked mans arms, guided it into my mouth, and squeezed the trigger for him because I was tired of him wasting precious time with excessive aiming. She said "we needed to talk", and I'm no idiot. I knew full well what it meant and met it more than half way. I did not only set a time and place for it, but also a mood and itinerary. I planned and all but carried out the dumping for her. I took control of what little I could. I made it almost fun. To the point that I wouldn't blame another girl for dumping me if she knew the fun that came ahead. I did all that I absolutely could to take away the sting of guilt she might have felt for not being able to commit to me the way I did for her, and not having the desire to learn along the way like I'd hoped. And anything left unsaid. And left a lot of emotions unexplored. Why? Because there was no point anymore. I would gain nothing. Get this, I made a note In my phone, and had a planned speech complete with cheery music and jokes. The works, all to facilitate my ex communication from her life and make it seamless. Because quite frankly I'd already felt quite a lot of pain in the days leading up to the ordeal and felt anything more was unnecessary. No amount of tears I made her cry or emptiness I'd make her feel would ever bring us back together. So I took up both my own emotions and the weight of her own that she never expressed, and everything else about the end of our relationship, all the dysfunction, and evenly displaced it on either side of the yoke I'd hand crafted. And I shouldered it until the moment she left and I hugged her goodbye. It's a shame that we laughed and smiled in the banter of that cool spring eve more genuinely than we had in weeks. I started to miss her the instant my hands on her back released and no longer felt the rise and fall of her ribs.
*(cue song switch to You've Got A Way by Fall Walk Run )*
....And I don't think that makes me a great person, or a special person. And I couldn't care less about people commending me for this. I just truly hope and pray that when she sits down and thinks about these things ( as she goes about and accomplishes great things for herself that I had previously hoped I could witness) she sees and realizes all this. How meticulous I was in all that I did. And in her silence, maybe in a small nod, or an acknowledging eye contact, thanks me. It would mean a whole lot.
*( Change now to Next Year by Two Door Cinema Club )*
P.S. I made her promise that she would still come see me in college. Now, given the promises we'd broken our track record isn't the best, but it's something to look forward to and hold on to. So, hold on I will. I look forward to the day that we meet again, which for some reason I feel we inevitably will even if the college visits fall through, and the chats we will have encompassing all that's come to pass and the accolades we've each acquired. The highs and lows we each have had to ride out, unpredictability of life, and even 401k's, all over some coffee.
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