Tears over fireworks, bonfires and broken hearts

Sometimes happiness is not enough. We want something, someone, because they make us happy. They give us this second of pure happiness that eclipses everything; everything. Yet, once the firework goes you spend the rest of the evening looking at the sky, waiting for the next one to come sitting in the dark for a moment of light.
This is for me to decipher what happened with him.
As I said, we dated, broke up, spent a night together after and then established we are better as friends. Well, he established that. I said that I can’t see him for a couple of weeks.
The weeks turned to a month, and he texted me. I thought of him every single day in that month and seeing his text made me so happy. He was going abroad so we agreed to meet when he came back. We spoke while he was away and met the second day when he came back.
I could not stop looking at him. It is not the fact that he is handsome (he is); it is his energy, the way he speaks, his vulnerable moments, split seconds that go straight to my heart. I realised within a few minutes that I was still as in love with him as the day I told him I wanted to be with him and he said he didn’t.
He told me he is seeing someone else. I was too, so I told him as well. Well, I was seeing someone but I could not be emotionally invested (and he knew because I was honest with him). So, we both moved on. Great.
A few weeks later I went out with friends. He was there. Everyone had a bit to drink so a friend approached him and told him that ‘he is killing me‘. He came asking why I badmouth him to people. I said I don’t – my friends have seen how difficult this had been for me – how it still was because I had feelings for him. He kissed me. He put his arms around my shoulder and felt safe, the kind of safe I last felt when I was in his arms. Missing him became unbearable so I said to him that I loved him and left. When I came out of the club it was snowing. I walked home. The streets were empty, and little frozen teardrops were falling on me. I was not crying alone.
Next day we spoke, said we were ok. A couple of weeks later I drunk texted him, saying it was him. He asked me what that meant. I completed the sentence: it is you I want to be with.
He had to leave and go back to his home country. That prospect broke my heart, as did the fact that in the weeks to his departure I would not see him as often as I wanted. I cried everyday; every single day.
On his last evening I went to see him as I had collected a parcel for him. My heart broke when I saw him. We went for a drink with his friends. When we left, despite my best intentions, I broke down.
I am not ready to say goodbye‘. We went over to his. We slept. I remembered how it was sleeping next to him. How incredibly safe I felt in his arms. His smell in the morning.
I lived one of my happiest memories that day. Opening my eyes and realising I am in his bed. Looking over at his and seeing the light from the window behind him paint a golden outline around him, as if he was glowing. I felt happy. Truly happy. I knew that in less than thirty minutes my heart would be breaking but at that moment in time he had give me a memory I would be eternally grateful for.
We got up. I broke down. He cried. We hugged. I went to work. He sent me a text asking me to not forget him. I saw drops of water falling on my phone screen and was surprised to see I had tears left in me. I asked him not to forget me either and he replied ‘how could I?’.
He left. We spoke periodically. Now we are losing contact and I see his updates on Facebook, little stabs of nostalgia.
I am aware that this is the romanticised version. He never promised me anything and he had plenty of chances to tell me he felt the same way I do; I provided them for him by telling him how I felt. He didn’t. He saw other people. He broke other hearts. I am just one of them.
One of his friend was devastated when he left. They dated in the past, and he got jealous when he kissed one of his friends, telling him he still had feelings for him. On the night of the drinks with the friends, I was there and we shared a beautiful moment of two men that are in love with the same man but either won’t be with him.
It is clear to me now that to an extent, most probably without him even realising, he played with my heart. He knew this was not going anywhere but kept playing as it must have been an ego stroke. I am typing this and it makes my heart hurt. Still, I need to acknowledge it.
He is never going to be with me. I am waiting to hear something I won’t hear. I am sitting in the dark waiting for a firework, ignoring the stars already lighting up the sky.
Self, know this: don’t spend your time chasing fireworks; find someone you can sit next to a bonfire and warm up together. Someone that will love you as much as you love them. Because you deserve it.



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