this is how you grow

always focus on your own personal growth. learn from your mistakes and move on from them. feel everything and regret nothing.

[londonfromparis]

I was never any good at leaving. It felt like after you spend all this time in one place, with people, ingraining yourself in their routine, and them in yours, that when you leave, the world should stop spinning. As if you were that integral in that time and space, that everyone else could simply not go on without you. But it does. It always does.

So, I think that’s why I just remove myself entirely. Delete myself from the storyline as if I never happened. Going back and seeing everything moved on without you feels painful. An ego hit. You weren’t that special. And then, at the same time, it made me feel like I couldn’t let go. It felt like I was grasping at straws to still fit in with a life that was no longer mine. Like somehow I was moving backwards, instead of just being sentimental.

[londonfromparis]

You’re intangible. Now, just a figment of my imagination. I held on to you long after I was meant to let you go because I still had a small piece of you. With that fragment gone, what do I hold now? Your memory? The idea of you? A picture that is frozen in time? But it’s not you. The real, tangible you. It’s gone. It’s slipped away. Slowly, I forget the sound of your voice. The way you’d look at me. The things that made me grow love for you. I cannot grasp them now.

[londonfromparis]

The timer starts. Tick. Tick. Tick. You ask how much time is left - I say two months. Then it’s over. You and I. Really over this time. Two years of clinging on to bits of each other because it was easier than letting go. Now, two months to figure out how to be okay doing something we should have done two years ago. We can’t be together. We can’t be friends. The time spent in the in between with surface level conversations between two people who knew far too much about another must come to a halt. This is where I’ll leave you.

[londonfromparis]

I was always going love you more than you loved me. I just loved bigger, bolder, shamelessly. A heart on your sleeve type of person. If I felt something, I’d say it. Let the words spill out like a faucet until it overflows. My heart was never a shy thing.

[londonfromparis]

I just love you. Sometimes I don’t believe you’re real, because it’s just so simple. There’s no bullshit, no anxiety or wondering. You just love me, want to be near me, get to know everything about me. You never waver. I’ve never had that before - and you have no idea what it means to me.

[londonfromparis]

It’s odd, isn’t it? You spend all that time with someone and after enough time passes, pieces of them begin to slip away. I tried to remember today what your voice sounded like, and I couldn’t pinpoint it. I couldn’t remember the last thing we did together - or the tv shows you loved to watch. The tiny details were gone. I filled the gaps with things I’d like to believe about you, until I realize the real you has completely slipped away. I’m not sure who I’ve been holding onto.

[londonfromparis]

I think I loved you. But in that moment where I told you that I did - you just froze up - it made me not like you. Because you knew me better than anyone else and you couldn’t even give me the slightest bit back. It wasn’t even a matter of love - you were unkind.

I’d spend my days pouring my soul out to you, in constant hopes of receiving something back. I’d watch you unravel and I never wavered. I put patches over the holes in our relationship and painted them over to make them look pretty.

Then, when you decided you’d had enough. You didn’t even have the kindness to let me go. You held me on your fingertips - knowing that I loved you - and knowing you wouldn’t love me, because you were too scared to be alone. And I wouldn’t dare leave you.

Then you filled our days with silence until you decided you wanted to see me. Always at your will. I’d justify it all because on good days, it felt like it did at the beginning.

And then I met him. And I learned how to let you go. How to accept love that was kind. That wanted me as much as I wanted it. Finally, you call me. You want to talk about us.

I tell you there’s nothing left to discuss.

[londonfromparis]

I’d seen far too much uncertainty. People who could never be so sure if they loved me. They’d waver back and forth, hold on and then let go. As if there was something wrong with me, when they just were unsure of themselves.

Then there was you. You held on tight. You opened the door and let me in. And you were sure of me.

[londonfromparis]

If I could pinpoint an exact moment that we fell apart - it was when I told you I loved you. It was supposed to be a beautiful moment. One for the books. But you just froze up. From that moment, things were never the same. You just retreated and shut me out. All because I loved you. How terrible was that?

[londonfromparis]

Suddenly - it seemed you loved me. Just when it was too late. When I let go of you hand. Shut the door. Walked away. Just then you had decided that you didn’t want to lose me. I would say timing is a funny thing - but you don’t love me - you really just don’t want to be alone.

[londonfromparis]

If it were up to me, we would have never broken up. I never wanted space, or distance, or time away from you. That wasn’t on me. I was confident in my love for you - it never wavered. You never were. And now you want to talk about things? Fix them? No. I know that you aren’t what I want anymore. I’m not waiting for you to figure out if I’m worth your time.

[londonfromparis]

Love. Something I just had too much of. The last few times I offered it up to someone, it was thrown back in my face. It makes you think being vulnerable is just total bullshit.

[londonfromparis]

I think what made moving on so hard was feeling like you owed it to someone or something to not leave. You tie yourself to the past. You go through the memories and everything the place or person has given you and you feel like you just can’t do it. Leaving doesn’t feel like an option. You know you’ve outgrown it. You know you don’t belong anymore. You know it’s not making you happy anymore - the choice is clear, but somehow you’re still stuck.

[londonfromparis]

It’s so silly, but I love you so much. I lied that night on the train when I told you I didn’t actually mean it. It was a slip - not the real thing.

I think you knew it too. You always felt guilty after that because you didn’t feel that same way. I think it really ate at you.

And that really ended up being it. You couldn’t love me like I loved you. So there wasn’t anywhere to go from there. It was the worst kind of standstill.

[londonfromparis]

Here I was, falling all over again. We’d just lay there and look at each other, smiling ear to ear - and then breaking out laughing because it was ridiculous how happy we were. I wanted to hold on to those moments forever or somehow bottle up that feeling. I just knew it was the beginning of something really special.

[londonfromparis]

I am responsible for my own happiness. I don’t need anyone else to protect me or warn me about the decisions I make. I know how I feel - no one else does. If I get hurt - then I’m okay with that. It’s a lesson learned, and it was a decision I thought was right at the time. This is how I grow.

[londonfromparis]