We were together for a long time. A very long time. I think I fell in love when I was but a very small child.
I loved all you represented. You were Santa Claus to me. We both had a vision of teaching the world to sing…in perfect harmony.
When I was 16, I started dating your alter ego: your lighter version–that quickly became “the real thing” for me.
And then every day for the next 30 years (sometimes two or three times a day), I would hold you in my hand and we’d embrace the day’s challenges together: at my desk by 10 am, in the car, in restaurants, at parties, with friends, by myself, before dinner, after dinner….sometimes even in the middle of the night. In university, I wrote essays about you. When I started working, I’d frequently take a walk mid-afternoon to go find you. I was one of your key shareholders. And you were one of mine. When I was happy, you were always there. When I was lonely or bored or stressed, you would show up and give me the necessary push to carry on. I was committed. You were my constant: the one I could count on.
I still think of you every now and then. I glance your way when I’m out and about, and I smile–fondly remembering how refreshing you were. I do miss you, and what you did for me when we were together. I’m sad we had to break up. I’d like to say “It was me, not you”, but I’m afraid it might have been you–or at least you + me. I know there was no real obvious reason for me to drop you cold-turkey the way I did. It wasn’t pre-meditated. It was more of a personal challenge to see if I really could get along without you.
And so far, nothing has really taken your place. But I was afraid–afraid of what would happen if we carried on the way we were.
I do notice that I sleep better now.
So, we are never ever getting back together.