The Replay
I come back to work after moving home for a few months. I’m feeling more like myself and learning to be happy again.
I’m nervous about moving back to the area because of all the memories - a lot of them are good but it’s the most recent ones that seem to stand out most. Those are the darkest memories. I cringe at the thought of going back to the same hospital or even my room again. But they’re just places. And soon your brain starts to form new memories anyway. I’m better. Healthier. I’ve gained some weight and I’m sleeping. I haven’t seen you in a few months. I’ve even been on some dates and I really enjoyed them. I still think about you. I watch La La Land and cry.
I can’t remember how we get back in touch. I’m sure it’s because I remembered something funny and messaged you. And before we know it, we end up talking for hours. You ask me to grab dinner. Just to catch up. It will be nice. Just as friends. I tell you I’m trying to date again so there’s no crossed wires. And it’s so nice. It feels like home. And suddenly I don’t know what to do anymore because I wasn’t expecting this. I thought I’d be over this by now. You tell me we should try again and I don’t know. We’ve been here so many times before. You ask me to stay round and it takes so much willpower not to curl up into your arms and drive home. I don’t want to be hurt again.
We carry on talking. Tentatively. We’re trying to be careful and take it slow. I book a show that i know you’d love and can’t wait to see it with you. We carry on messaging. So far no fights. I think we’re better at resolving them now. I come back from my holiday and we have a lovely evening. You make pasta and we get ready to go to bed early. We’re both trying to get more sleep and be healthier. Our phones both go off and suddenly we’re dragged back into the past. Into a situation both of us just want to erase from our brain. You tell me go to sleep and we can sort it out in the morning but I don’t listen. I end up putting myself in the firing line for someone else’s anger and abuse and I feel so bad for her that I sit there and take it. I listen to all the ways I’m an awful person and I try to stay afloat and not sink into those feelings. It’s someone’s anger and hurt. None of it is true.
You tell me the things said aren’t true. There are years of memories I have to know who you are and I am. We pore over the messages because I don’t understand why someone would say those things and part of me doesn’t trust you. I end up getting angry at you. For being a coward. For not being honest. It would have been kinder to be honest with her. It feels like avoiding accountability to me and maybe that’s why I try to help. It’s not helpful at all and I stop.
We stay awake for the next few days talking about this. When does it ever end? Every time it feels like we make some headway, there’s a road block. We try to salvage the evening and watch the show we planned. Neither of us has slept. At times, it feels like an uphill struggle that neither of us has much energy for. Sometimes it feels so hard. And neither of us have any answers. I cry in the car on the way home. We never had a chance. From the start. There were always obstacles from the beginning. Sometimes it feels no matter how much you love someone or love spending time together, it just isn’t enough. Will we ever get a second chance? We can only try and do what we can and that’s enough for now. What I do know is that I’m tired of everyone else’s input. This is a story of you and me.