Some things you’re just certain of. No matter how much people tell you it isn’t so, it can’t be so; no matter how much you tell yourself it couldn’t possibly be so, not this time and not again. You know better than that, your heart does too.
There’s this feeling right before it happens, like a chill in your bones, like a boiling in your blood that’s rushing to your head to make you dizzy as if you were tipsy from too much wine. Sometimes it’s a strange, inexplicable calmness, like the surface of the sea at sunrise on a perfectly sunny summer day. But you know exactly what it is, each and every single time. What it is, it is the beginning of sliding back into a state you’re not sure is good for you, and yet can’t help but let yourself be drawn into. It’s the continuation of an addiction that’s so sweet and disturbing in its sweet permanence.
My blessing, and my curse – I can sense it right before it happens, like a feeling of déjà-vu. What I could never do, however much I wished I could, is read your mind. However well I knew you, expecting me to be able to read each nuance that undecidedly said “leave me be, but don’t ever leave” the right way was simply unfair to me. And while I could not do that, what I could do and still can is challenge you, the same way you did me, they same way I would always, because I would never let you take the easy way out. Not when that was unfair to you.
In the middle of all the confusion, of all the tiresome back and forth, the yes, but no, then maybe, the longings and the rejections, I could feel it right before it happened; my instincts didn’t fail me, I just needed to listen to them.