Silent Treatment

Silence. There is only so much one person can take. I might not be the smartest girl in the world, but even I can tell when it’ time to just give up and face the facts. The fact that the one I love no longer loves me. The one I need, no longer needs me.

I always knew that I’d have to share your love, and I was fine with that. I was perfectly happy with you loving and being in love with more than one person. I thought, so long as you’re happy. So long as I’m not forgotten in the shuffle. So long as you give me just a moment of your attention, I would be happy. I was.

You gave me a dream. A wonderful dream where you and me and everyone lived together. We had even talked about it. It’s all I ever really wanted. To move to be with you. To be near you. Even if you loved another more than me. And for a moment, I had it.

For a brief holiday, I was with you. We spent those few days together and they are my most treasured memories. I still dream of those days I spent sleeping next to you and I longed to return beside you. Where I felt I finally belonged.

You gave me a ring. Such a simple thing really. Just a bit of metal with romantic lyrics engraved on them. But to me, it was more. It was a link between us. A bond. To me, it was a promise. But it seems like the ring, it can be bent and worn with age.

For a while, I lost you. I lost you and never heard from you. I messaged you nightly, trying in vein to make some sort of contact. Each night, I’d fall asleep empty. Waiting, hoping that this night, I would hear from you. And when it came too much, I broke and I let you know how I felt. That I felt abandoned; ignored for others. You had time for everyone else but me and all I had of you was memories.

The next day, I apologized to you for telling you how I felt. I was sorry for what I felt deep in my heart. And when I did apologize, you finally made contact. You said that it had already been a bad day for you, and that my feelings of inferiority and abandonment had made it worse for you. Again, I apologized, because you told me you would never ignore me. That you forgave me and still loved me. I believed you.

Then you left on a trip. A trip to visit another one that you loved. It was right around your birthday. I sent a card…I wonder if you ever got it…or if you even cared. I never heard from you after you came back. Nothing. Not a word.

I had to learn about your life from your online journal, like I was a stranger, and not like the one wearing your ring. I tried to return to those things we had in common before the rift, only to discover days later that I was totally locked out. As if you were shutting the door on me, and throwing away the key.

Still, I tried. Every night, without fail, I tried. I hoped and I prayed for one word from you. I got nothing. Nothing except painful loneliness in my chest that made me feel physically ill. Yet I told myself when you were ready, you would talk to me again.

I’m such a masochist. I’ve hurt myself myself like this over and over again for two months. I’ve messaged and I’ve called and I’ve become something I’m not. Just to head a word from you. I’d even accept “go away”. But all I get is silence.

I suppose I deserve what I discovered. That our talk of my moving out with you was nothing more than sweet dreams and fantasy. I wish I could have heard you say it. You’ll be moving somewhere else yourself. You’ll go with one you love, and I would have never known. I’d have uprooted and left and found you gone without a word to me. I suppose the house with everyone no longer has room for me.

But I still can’t let go. Because I’ve not heard a word. If you told me to stop contacting you, I would. If you asked for your ring back, I would send it to you. How do I know what you want if you no longer talk to me?

I’m too much of a coward to do things myself. If I weren’t, I would have realized sooner, that you’d moved on. That you’ve moved on. That you’ve found where you belong and that I’m no longer invited. But I can’t let myself believe that. I can’t mail you your ring because I still want to believe in the dream we shared, of a house for everyone. Me Included. Even if I do have to take a number to be with you.

Like I said, I’m a masochist. I can keep on hurting myself emotionally by prolonging what’s not there. But this time, I’m not sorry. This is how I feel. I don’t know if it’s a bad day for you to hear it. How can I know when I don’t hear from you? This is how I feel, and I’m not taking it back. I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry for wanting to know if the dream is dead. I’m not sorry for needing to hear from you just one more time. Just one word from you.

Yes or no solves it all.

Yes…there is still a place for me

No…I’ve moved on, and now, you can too.

And I won’t take silence as an answer.