I’ve said it before. I never knew if I truthfully, wholeheartedly, 100%, without a doubt meant it. But for some reason, today, I know I can say it. Hell, I can even blog about it. These three words.
I’m Over Him.
I’ve juggled with the idea for a while, for years even. That he was no longer significant to me. That I’ve even loved someone more since him. That I wasn’t subconsciously hoping it would work out in the future. Truth is, I don’t think I was over him then. I think I was over it.
Experiencing a long-term breakup at the age of 17 was the hardest thing I ever had to do. It ruined who I was for years. I know that’s dramatic, but it’s really true. It affected my everyday life. I didn’t know it was possible for one person’s change of feelings to also change nearly everything in my life. I’m not just talking about my upbeat personality or my freakin’ hair color. I’m talking about the biggest decisions I’ve ever made. This event affected every single part of it. Every one told me that when I looked back on it, I would laugh at how upset I was because it would later become so insignificant. They were partially right, he has become insignificant to me. But I’ll never label what I went through silly. I suffered the heartache of losing my first love — a love I thought I would never even have the chance to have. A love that I still am unsure can exist again with someone else.
I stayed in touch with him for years, wrestling with the thought to continue to keep talking to him or not. Was it hurting me? Was I gaining the upper hand by him contacting me? Was his apology, ill-timed and far too late, making anything better? I don’t know the answer to any of these questions.
Less than a week shy of the 4 year mark of our break up, I cut ties. Not because I was still suffering. I had moved on. He did not consume my actions and he sure as hell did not consume my thoughts, but he was still there, and I did not see a reason for him to be anymore. His presence was poisoning and holding me back from who I needed to become. I deleted his phone number. I defriended him on Facebook. And I did so painlessly and confidently. It’s a strange feeling knowing that there is a great chance I will never speak to him again. It’s a stranger feeling knowing that I’m okay with that possibility.
So, if I have all this emotion tied to this accomplishment of being over him, am I really over him? This post makes me seem so incredibly wrapped up in his memory. But I’m not.
I can no longer hear his voice saying he loves me.
I can no longer hear his voice saying he doesn’t love me anymore.
I cannot remember the most precious of memories I used to hold dear to my heart.
I don’t want to know who he’s dating.
I don’t want to know if he’s home for the Holidays.
His name no longer sends chills down my spine.
There is not a song on Earth that I still associate with him.
Or any kind of anything.
I have yet to find a need to bring him up in conversation with friends.
The scare of running into him is no longer a scare.
Or even something that crosses my mind.
However, I hope he’s happy.
I hope he can say the same about me.
I hope he doesn’t have to.
And I hope we both find love in a different way. A better way. A forever way.