“Do you still remember him?”
“Just one or two moments, yes.”
“What do you most remember about him?”
“When he looked me in the eyes in front of my door, saying, ‘please, Dira. I love her’“
If everyone is ever about to ask me if I still remembered him, that would be my answer.
I don’t know why, though. From all the memories I had with him, all the love he had ever given, all the calls, conversation, foods, trips, hugs and kisses we had, the very one thing I recalled about him was that night, him in front of my door saying he loved her. I remember I closed the door with disdain and cried all night in my dark room. I did not sleep. I never slept well ever since that day. Not until recently.
I will tell you, though, about how he came. How it ended. And how I’m finally healed.
He first came in Autumn. The early Autumn when rain was fairly falling, breezy air, fairly cold weather. I first saw him in a classroom, he was sitting in the front center of class, alone, with plaid shirt and grey jeans. Rectangle glasses on. That was how we met.
The next days, we exchanged chats, we had a date by the lake. And the next time I knew, I fell in love with that guy.
The guy who loves his mom, who loves kids, who is smart and brilliant, dapper, smell good always, good in public speaking, friendly, good in making jokes, chatty and always love to talk a lot. I fell in love with that guy who said that he was falling in love with me, and having this intention to put me in his future. I fell for him so hard that I slowly loved him. With all my heart, I loved him.
We did every romance movies depict, it seems. Cooking together, dancing in the snow, long hugs under cherry blossom tree, kisses in the rain, strolling around the city at 2 AM, watching night sky full of stars, everything. I did every goddamn romantic scenes ever made.
Until one day he started a new life after graduation. We were apart by distance. 5-hours-by-bus-far. We kept our communication good. We Skype-ed everyday, all night. We mostly didn’t close the Skype even we had slept. Every of his break-time, we talked, we called. We were so very happy back then. I was.
And things suddenly went off. He was hardly reached, and suddenly he was nowhere to find.
There were moments of weeks I never heard about him, and the next time I knew he was walking with another woman in his past. We talked about that. I said I’d give up on him if he chose her, and he said no, he said he wanted me. And that woman was only coming for simple business.
I loved him, I believed in him.
But then he was hardly reached and gone for weeks again.
I didn’t remember what I felt, but I knew it was depressing. I lost weight a lot, which I didn’t realize back then.
And one day he showed up, saying everything was okay with us, and he was just stuck up with life, which was hard. So very hard for him.
I understood. I did not want to make things worse by nagging him, so I said I’d stay. I was thinking that life could get into everyone so shittily and if that would happen to us in the future, I wanted to fight for the relationship. I loved him.
Despite everything he had ever made me felt, I loved him, I wanted to be the one beside him facing all those together with him. Life was hard for him. And I had been ready for that; giving him my all.
I thought it was love.
We had several moments together again. Still being 5 hours by bus away, with little talks, let alone date. We rarely had date. Most of the times we’d exchanged talks in a coffee shop or restaurants, but he always seemed concerned about something. I remember it was like he tried to drift away from me.
He stopped saying I love you. He stopped listening to my stories. He just, stopped, loving me. No more hugs or hands holding. We fought a lot, even about insignificant details like whether we should eat in place A or B.
Every of our conversation became a fight. A good dinner could suddenly turn into the coldest fight.
Every of stories became a fight. Every of my acts was the trigger to him criticizing my behavior. He suddenly didn’t like the way I dressed, the way I posted on social media, the way I hanged out with friends, the way I never finished my foods, the way I spent money, and everything that I did seemed to his disgust.
I still loved him.
Life got on him so hard that I understood he didn’t want any more complication.
We were so different in race, culture, age, and point of view. We were never compatible. We were just foolishly falling in love with each other, I thought.
After months of those tiresome and tedious relationship, him being gone was not new for me. He sometimes showed up, saying he missed me and we then met for a coffee or dinner or lunch, spending time together again, and I thought everything was still okay.
And then this friend of mine told me he saw him walking, hand in hand, with that woman in his past. Right after my birthday. The next day after my birthday to be precise. And I didn’t want to believe my friend. I refused his claims, and defending him in my mind. That it was just friendly gesture. That it was never possible.
Long after that, he kept being himself, who was dependent on me, we called as usual, we met as usual, and it was forgotten. And he was gone again, for more than a month. And he came back, asking us to meet.
I was having this hunch that something was not right, but I shrugged it off.
And my hunch was right all along, he said he wanted to let me go. That we need to be just friend. He said he needed me, but he could not promise any future as he promised in the beginning. I loved him. I said I would wait for him til life is getting better, and we could build up our dreams together again.
He said nothing and just hugged me that night.
Few days after that, he was gone and I looked for him everywhere. I looked for him to his friends, and all they said he was gone abroad, marrying a woman abroad. No other messages left to me.
It was early after new year, a message popped out saying “stop calling me”.
When I burst him with calls and messages, few hours after, he knocked on my door, and he said that he was married.
I didn’t remember in detail how. But I remember only him saying he is married and he loved her.
Later after that day, when I cut every means of communication with him, I learned that he was already with that woman, long before I knew it. It was even longer than I thought when it began.
I was a fool. I was in love.
After that, he sometimes reached me thru emails, or calls, he sometimes knocked on my door as well, and I never replied.
He sometimes messaged how depressed he was and that he needed me.
One or two calls I answered when it seemed him in trouble. I still loved him.
Most of the times, I ignored those messages. He would regularly call or text. We met one day in friend’s housewarming party, I did not spoke to him.
One day a package came in, shoes and dress wrapped nice, from him.
I was talking to him again after that, asking him what that would mean. And he said he missed me. And I hung up the call.
The last time I saw him was in the airport, he showed up in the bus station taking me to the airport. He somehow found out the day I would come back home for good — asking friend around, maybe. He is that stubborn guy who kept me in his reach even after he said he left me — emotionally blackmailing.
It was a painful breakup.
I was depressed, isolating myself, these posts were one of my solitaire. I had ever talked about how that depression moment got into me. How I prayed so hard to God that I wanted him back. How I thought I did not want anything else in life but him. How I cursed God to let me meet him in this life.
And then my prayers changed. I prayed to God one day to lift the pain it caused — and this, somehow God has paid back.
It was unbearable, and I felt like I could not hold it anymore.
I had fewer friends, I shut down people and the world.
But some friends bore it with me. Some friends gave you time, with no judgment, helping you heal, gradually.
Giving me technical details, and I complied.
It was hard at the beginning to open up yourself to anyone.
It was hard to let everyone know what happened to your life.
Speaking of his name is like opening up the gaping wounds you’d covered.
My life after that breakup sucked, lackadaisical, and livid. It was empty and void, and meaningless, I thought.
And then one day, I just realized how many people love me, how many people are dependent on me, my parents, my little girl.
I looked at her and I knew I could not be doing this to myself because I wanted her to look at me and proud. I do not want one day this to happen to her life, and even if it does happen, I do not want her to behave like me. I want her to have a meaningful life, purposeful, catching dreams, content, and most of all, not miserable.
I was miserable. I was mentally troubled. I was broken.
And when I realized that. I began to open up myself again. I welcomed everyone coming. And one particular guy was coming; with his own wounds and love, making be believe in love again.
I have moved on. I’ve said farewell to him. And I told him that I’ve found someone.
He is still the worst memory I had ever had in my life and I wished to erase.
He is still the very thing I regret the most in this life.
I regret that I should meet him and fell in love with him, bearing all those pain and kept loving him in those unbelievable ways.
I regret that those years I spent, I could have been just loving this guy instead.
They said the right time and right person is a myth.
This last post is a reminder for me, and for everyone out there that yes, brokenhearted is a disease. The healing comes within. You should want to be fixed and healed before you can be healed.
Admitting yourself that you need help, opening up to people, and realizing that so many people love you, are one step to many steps ahead. But the journey, you’ll find it yourself.
Above all, maybe, you should realize that in this life, nothing lasts forever. Not the rain, not the sun. Not the love, not the brokenhearted. Not the happiness, not the sadness. Not the joy, not themisery. Every other form of feelings or emotions is fleeting. You should not be suck up to one emotion so deep; it is bad for your mental health.
You can never feel completely happy or completely sad. Feeling is a spectrum, it is mixed of this and that.
You can never feel completely loving someone, or stopped loving him.
I would not know, for example, when I exactly stopped loving him. But I know I do not love him anymore now.
I just know, somehow, that I do not hate him. I just regret meeting him and saying yes to him. It is not contempt or vengeful or hatred towards him. It is just nothing — but regret.
I know I do not love him anymore because I do not care about him anymore. He is just one insignificant stranger that has nothing to do with what I’m feeling right now.
That’s when I know when I’m completely healed.
“Farewell, I do not wish to meet you again. Not in this lifetime, not in the next or the next or another universe. I did not wish you had chosen something else, either.
And you’re still the biggest regret I would ever have in life.”
P.S to my loved one:
“Baby, thank you for being with me, and bearing me, and watching me as I learned this. You’re really the answer to my prayers to God.”
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