To Love Someone You Can’t Have
What is it like? To love someone you can’t have? To be so close to them so much but never able to touch?
You’d think it hurts all the time. But it doesn’t. When you’re with them, it’s like taking a breath of fresh air for the first time after getting off a ten hour flight. The whole world comes into focus and you realize, oh this is why I’m here; this is why I exist. You laugh and smile easier. Everything just seems right. Like nothing else could ever be better than this moment.Â
And maybe sometimes, during the really quiet moments, you find yourself staring just a bit. Not much. Nothing noticeable. Just you find yourself looking at their hair and imagining your fingers running through it. You stare at their eyes and picture waking up every morning to those eyes staring back at you. You see their lips and you can’t help but think about kissing them. It’s only for a moment though. Before something draws you back to Earth, makes you remember who they are and who you are and how it would never work. Ever.Â
It doesn’t hurt at the moment though. How could anything hurt when you’re with them? When they make you laugh more than anyone ever has? When they treat you, if only for a few hours, like nothing else in the world matters? So except for a few seconds every time, it’s alright. And you think to yourself that you can handle this. You can hang out with them and watch movies and give them dating advice and it won’t hurt.Â
And then suddenly, you’re alone again. They’ve dropped you off or you’ve walked home. But it’s not really home because you’re alone and you can’t be home if you’re not with them. So you’re back at the place where you live. And it all comes rushing to you. Every moment, every tiny second you shared over the day comes rushing back. And it hurts. God, it hurts. You never realized that something could hurt so bad.Â
It’s not like getting your heart broken. Your heart doesn’t really break. Not in the way people think. It cracks. Slowly. Every time they look at someone else, every time they ask you how they should get a partner, and every time you return to the place where you live alone. It cracks a little bit every time. And bit by bit, with every crack, you start to lose part of it. You’re not sure where it goes, where those missing pieces of heart disappear to. Maybe they go to them, to the person slowly chipping away at it. Or maybe they’re just gone. They just go off, go somewhere they can’t be hurt anymore.Â
So you lay in bed, aware that your heart isn’t as big or as full as it was before. You know this is killing you. You toss and you turn and you wonder what if. And every what if hurts even more because it won’t ever happen. And you feel the cracking of your heart, a crack for every tear on your face. You won’t see them again. You’ll come up with an excuse. You’ll detox. You’ll just stop. Not forever. Just until it doesn’t hurt anymore.Â
You’re so sure of yourself. This is it. This is your plan. And you’re gonna do it. You’ll fix this whole thing. Even if it means not seeing them. Because in that moment, not seeing them is better than the agony of seeing them. But then they text you. They text you and you can’t help but light up. You smile like nothing could ever bother you, even though your heart is cracking.
You make plans. You know you said you wouldn’t but you do. After this, you promise. This is a goodbye. A last hurrah. The end. Not forever but for a little bit. They don’t know that, but you do. You’re sure of yourself. Very sure.Â
And then there they are. There’s that breath of fresh air. There’s the realization. And you can’t do it. You sit and you talk and you laugh and you tease and you can’t do it. How could you have ever even thought about not seeing them? Because this is worth it. Even as your heart cracks. This moment, right here, this pain, is worth all of it as long as they keep looking and laughing at you. They’re worth it.Â
And eventually you go back to the place where you live. And it starts all over again. In the end, it’s a cycle. Loving someone you can never have. It goes around again and again. As your heart cracks and breaks off again and again. And you know, deep down, that eventually every piece of your heart will crack and fall away. That eventually, you’ll be nothing left but a small husk of who you were before. A husk waiting for a breath of fresh air.
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