Ellie Vs. Perfecting the Art of Missing You

I’ve had the idea to write this for weeks, but I just can’t seem to piece it all together, and then instead of dealing with them, the thoughts continue their little Waltz in my head, dancing out of time. Here’s to attempt number 3,000,000.

My entire life, for reasons I still don’t entirely understand, I have found myself in the constant state of missing someone. Being a child I missed my family members who lived in Vienna who came to visit once every few years, my grand aunt and uncle who lived only an hour away from me, and even my grandmother who I lived with, but who I could just never seem to get enough of.

As I got older, I began to have more complex relationships, and they always seemed to have devastating endings. I try incredibly hard to be a compassionate, loyal, and giving friend; but it’s nearly always taken advantage of, and I am left hurting, being told I am a horrible, awful, person. Then a few months to a year later the person returns to my life, and apologizes, but no matter what, the cycle continues and we end up the same way. Eventually, I have to leave the situation and sever the cycle, because if I were to keep going along, it would destroy me completely. It may sound like I’m victimizing; and it could be that I am, I don’t deny that. But as I have gotten older, I have found that for people who have my personality type along with similar life experiences, this is actually a common theme. It never stops. The fact this is the norm for people breaks my heart more than the rest of the situation put together. As my counselor explained, we are the people who will always live with our suitcases at the door.

Due to the fact that I moved away from my hometown this year, it’s no wonder that I miss many people. My friends, my grandparents, my music teacher who was more a father to me than my own parents, and especially my sweet little pit bull, Luna. Missing all those people (plus a pup) is natural, of course. But other times, I, as well as most human beings I’m sure, find themselves missing a different sort of someone for a seemingly infinite amount of time. This one particular person is like a single, tiny glowing star that rests on the edge of my consciousness, and no matter how much time passes, or what I do, I just can’t seem to dull that glow. This wouldn’t be troublesome if it weren’t for the memories and anguish that don’t just shine, but burn me. But they burn me daily, and so I am troubled.

Ellie is my pseudonym. Often times when I talk about other people in my blog, I use their real names because what I express is generally positive. This time will be a mix. Keep in mind I am not one to “start drama” or “talk shit” by any means. I actively try to avoid bullshit in my life as much as humanly possible. For the first time in my life though, since having this blog, I am removing my filter and am allowing myself to freely speak, without fear of judgement, because I believe it is the only thing that will finally help me move forward. The person I am writing about also knows about 80% of what I will be saying anyway, so it wouldn’t bother me if he did find it, but even still, I can’t seem to bring myself to use his real name. Maybe it’s because it’s easier to talk about when I allow a bit of distance between he and I. So instead of calling him by his real name, we will call him Tom.

I don’t particularly know where to start, and I don’t have the mental capacity to write out every little detail, but still I find that the best place to start would to be at the beginning. I met Tom five years ago, completely unexpectedly, and he is still to this day one of the most interesting people I have known. Throughout those five years, we dated several times, were friends several times, and had some fairly large breaks in between. Whether we were dating or not even speaking, he always seemed to be very involved in my life. I would not only have him on my mind consistently, but I would see him around my city or school all the time. No matter what, we never seemed to be too far from one another. I can’t even begin to comprehend why that was, but I often felt like we were inseparable and tied together by the force of the universe; even during the times when separation is what I wanted more than anything.

I fell in love with him at first because he was talented, handsome, and undoubtedly clever. But as I grew to know him more, those reasons became completely unimportant. I fell in love with his thought process, and with his eyes; not because of their beauty, but because they could see so much that I had always seen myself, but was never quite able to articulate. The few times I would try, no one in my life would register it, and I would just simply be labeled eccentric or be blown off into the void. He was the first person I had met who I felt sincerely understood me, and had no trouble expressing it. Not in the sense of remembering what my favorite color was, or what my favorite television show was. But Tom understood me in a way that I don’t think anyone else ever has. He fully encompassed everything I had wanted in a person that would spend my life with me, and when he spoke, it penetrated deep into my bones.

“Remember, with great power. comes great responsibility.” Uncle Ben really know’s what’s up. With Tom’s understanding of me and him knowing that I felt deeply connected him, he was certainly able to make me feel like I truly mattered to him. But when we fought, he was able to reduce me to a bumbling, teary eyed child, which is something that I try so hard to not be. He would say things along the lines of me being “a fucking joke,” “not having the mental capacity to deal with anything real,” or that I was “spouting nonsense.” I find it funny that I can barely remember my own name most days, but I can remember, in detail, every venomous word he ever hurled at me. Other times, he would ignore me entirely and not even bother to look at me. I thought the world of him, and respected him greatly, so when he belittled me, it was debilitating to my thought process. And while I would want to challenge his words and fight them back in a clever, mature way, I never seemed to be able to choke out the right words. I have had to fight many people in my life, and often I would be able to use my love of words to my advantage. But I had no advantage with him at all.

For all those years I thought the world of him, and I wanted nothing more then for him to feel the same way about me. Several times he said he did, but it would always be quickly taken back. Tom was my first love, but I was most certainly not his, and I tried to come to terms with that. When I finally did, and came to peace with our relationship as just friends, he once again tried to convince me that I was absolutely everything he wanted. My brain was screaming to not believe him because of all the previous experiences, but my heart was ripping itself from my chest, wanting to be warmed by his. Sure enough, not two days later, he again told me that he was completely, hopelessly in love…with someone entirely different. At that point, after years of the same pattern, I had finally snapped. When I thought of what he meant to me, I thought of the fact that he was my first real love, he was irreplaceable to me, that he was my best friend, that he was everything I had craved from the moment I set foot on Earth. That night, sobbing in his car on the side of the street, I asked him what I meant to him. He replied that he didn’t know, and so I walked away barefoot on the cold pavement back to my own car, wishing that I would just be erased from existence altogether.

After the third time of him performing what seemed like a sacrificial ritual in which he ripped out my heart and threw it into the blazing mouth of a demon, I finally noticed that our entire relationship, we had the exact same pattern repeating in our lives together. The cycle would go like this: we would meet after a break because of a fight we had, usually because he would text or message me, he would seem as if he had changed and was apologetic, we would become friends, things would get complicated, we would fight, he would crush me while I tried to scramble and retaliate, we would have a falling out, and then he would reach out once again to repeat the cycle. And I would always, always allow it to continue. As much as it pains me to admit, he had me on a very accessible leash that he could pull whenever he felt like it, because most of the time, I was begging for it to be pulled.

Tom understood so much about both the universe we live in, and about the one I believe I live in; it is also undeniable that he is without a doubt, one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met. Yet somehow, there was so much that he could not comprehend. He could not understand why I would get irritated by him ranting on for hours about all his ex lovers who, by excruciating detail, were so much prettier, smarter, and more interesting than I. He couldn’t see why it made me manic that he could one moment be so sweet and loving, and then flip a switch to be cold and entirely uninterested by anything I would say. And the very last time, he couldn’t understand that it was not him kissing me that destroyed me, but it was him convincing me that I was finally everything he had ever wanted; and then soon after telling me that he was in love with an angel that was not me.

Since the last time we fought, which I can’t actually believe was over a year ago, he has tried to yank on my leash at least a few times. But I am happy to say that after living through this cycle far too many times, I have started to demolish those chains on the leash one by one, and though my soul cries out, “write back!” when he contacts me, I use every last bit of self control I have not to. The last time he wrote me, he said that he often got into situations like this. Like I described, he had many good qualities, so it was no wonder many girls fell in love with him. But that’s exactly the problem. To me he was this spectacular human who was unlike any other. My love for him went beyond platonic love or romantic love; it was in another realm of love altogether. But to Tom, I was just another girl. I even said that to him in our last fight, and he agreed immediately. And through all the love I gave him, all of myself that I gave him, that fact is what still eats me every day. It’s amazing how someone can be your entire world, but to them, you can be not much more than an indifferent grain of sand. It may very well take me the rest of my life to get over that, and I think even if I lived forever, I still may not.

Usually my posts have a silver lining at the very end when I speak of things that are anything but cheerful. But for this particular post, I am sorry to say, I just don’t have one. When my back is hurting from arthritis or my stomach is writhing from my Celiac disease, I can (most times) still come to a positive conclusion. But when my very core has been shaken by another human being, I don’t quite know how to solve that. If anything, all I can do is be grateful to those who, despite knowing that I no longer trust anyone because of this experience and similar ones to it, still take the risk of loving me anyway.

As for Tom, he has a part of my heart that I don’t think I’ll ever get back. But that’s okay. He can keep it, and I hope that whether or not he takes care of it, it warms him anyway. If only for a single moment, I hope it means something. But if it doesn’t, and all I ever am to him really is just another trivial girl like he told me I am, well then, that’s alright too. There’s nothing I can do about it, except hope that over time, the piece of my heart that’s missing will start to grow back, so that all of the people I miss can at least live in my heart a little more comfortably.  I don’t think Tom or any of the people I long for will ever truly go away from me entirely, so maybe the art of missing entails making a home for them inside myself, rather than constantly trying to push them out. Maybe if they are more comfortable, and I am more comfortable with their presence, the heat from their little stars in my mind won’t burn quite so hot.

Well, look at that. I made a silver lining anyway.

Am I more than you bargained for yet?
I’ve been dying to tell you anything you want to hear,
Cause that’s just who I am this week.
Lie in the grass, next to the mausoleum.
I’m just a notch in your bedpost,
But you’re just a line in a song.

~Fall Out Boy – Sugar, We’re going Down

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