text: *I don’t want this. I don’t want this.* I despair silently. As my days turn into weeks. As I watch him come in and out of the apartment. As I cry myself to sleep. *How can I make you love me? What can I do?? What if I am sweeter? More adoring?* I consider. *I could give him more kisses and hugs, then he’ll have to understand.* I resolve to try. *What more could I possibly lose?* I am sitting at the kitchen table when he gets home. He settles in not making eye contact only giving me a brief greeting. He’s not ignoring me exactly, just not dying to chat. I keep staring. *Look at me.* My gaze pleads but it’s not working. I walk up to him and stand in his way. “Look at me.” I manage to whisper. This is painful. He hesitates but stops and looks. *Can you understand how desperate I am to fix this?* My eyes start to collect tears but before they spill I hug him tightly and breath deeply. He stiffens slightly, but let’s me hug him. After a while of his nonreaction I admit defeat and let go slowly. “I love you.” I say. *How do I fix this?* I want to ask. “I love you too.” He says back, stilted. Technically we’re not broken up. The official words have not been spoken. He simply put the gun on the table and backed away slowly, refusing to pull the trigger. I am aghast and anxious for him to shoot. Instead he checked out. All I have is a shadow of a person as I scramble for something that will give me back the relationship I had. *Maybe I am just not lovable enough.* I start to wonder. *Maybe there’s nothing I can do.* For weeks after the initial conversation he walks in and out of our apartment barely acknowledging me. He gives me short answers, he doesn’t smile. Our home has become a frozen tundra and I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to stand it. I wallow in anxiety. Wondering what’s going to happen and why on earth it hasn’t yet. I don’t want this. Breaking up was the furthest thing from my mind. But something needs to happen. I am starting to think he’s too scared to do it. Just because it hasn’t been declared doesn’t mean we’re not already living it. I hate admitting that. I guess it’s on me. **Me: Hey...** I decide to text him. Mainly out of cowardice **What if we did a trial break up? We can live as if we are broken up for a while, and if we don’t like it, we can go back to normal.** **Kevin: That’s a good idea** I want to give him an out. I want it to be clear it doesn’t have to be permanent. *You can change your minds.* *Please change your mind*. He comes home that night more receptive to me. I make us dinner and for the first time he makes idle chit chat. “I’ll sleep in the living room.” He states once we get into the particulars of the arrangement. “No, we can take turns.” I am quick to refute. “We both bought that huge bed we should both sleep on it sometimes. “ Don’t worry about it.” he insists. “You take the room.” I shrug. He seems lighter. Taking this step was the right move, I acknowledge begrudgingly. After dinner I watch as he pushes the couches in the living room together to make a spacious bed. Just a few months ago we were shopping for those dreaming about what our apartment might become. We roamed that store for hours finally deciding on the two comfiest couches we’d ever sat on, that were also luckily in the clearance section. The memory brings a small smile to my face that is quickly wiped away when he asks where we keep the extra set of comforters. I go and get them, and grab his pillow from our bed. That night I cry quietly wondering if I will ever run out of tears. I didn’t know it was possible to cry this much. I wish he would come into the room and lay with me. I could ask him... I realize. *Would he say no? Do I have that much courage?* I don’t. I decided, after going back and forth for an hour. My ego is bruised plenty I won’t risk more rejection. I am startled awake by my alarm unsure when I stopped crying long enough to fall asleep. *I am alone*. I think as I look around the room. *The first of many to come.* And the tears start up again. A few weeks later he hasn’t asked to go back to how things were. My hoping that he was going to change his mind starts to turn into a panic that he won’t. I dread coming home to see those couches pushed together day after day. Outside of the apartment, it doesn’t seem so bad. I even catch myself smiling from time to time. But when I come home the inescapable truth hits me. *It’s really over.* I try not to look into the living room and head straight to the room but it doesn’t matter, I already know what’s there. My lungs start to feel like they are shrinking and I am breathing through a straw. I can’t see straight. There are spots everywhere. I make it to the door of my room, throw my bag down and lay with it on the carpet still wearing my winter coat. He finds me on the floor like that minutes later. Hyperventilating and sobbing. I didn’t even hear him come through the door. “Maria...?” He whispers and kneels down next to me. “What’s going on?” I don’t respond. I can’t. And his voice fills with more concern. “What do you need?” I try to shake my head, it's hard to since I can’t pick it up off the ground. “I. Can’t. Breath.” I manage to croak. He has been privy to my panic attacks he knows the drill. “Here.” He kneels down, helps me take my coat off and lays on the floor. His face next to mine on the carpet watches me intently. “Do you want to talk to me?” He is using his sweetest voice. It penetrates my heart and only makes me sob harder. “It’s okay baby.” He soothes and gently rubs my back. If only I could lie here forever. It takes about 10 more minutes but with enough focused attention I calm down enough to bring air into my lungs with ease. I start to sit up. He stares at me wide eyed and concerned getting up with me. “I am not doing okay.” I say in a shaky voice wiping away tears. “I want to be.” I add and shrug. “Is there anything I can do?” He asks with genuine concern. “No.” I say and sigh deeply. *“*I’ll manage this.” I promise, to both him and myself. I go run the shower. I need to get away from him, his concern only makes the pain worse. *I can’t sulk in grief for the next 9 months.* *I need to start accepting this.* But I immediately reject the idea. *Admit defeat?* *This break up is wrong*. *It doesn’t make sense. How can I accept it?* The comfort of the hot water envelopes me and I start to feel better. Physically, at least. *My future. The beautiful home we were building. Am I just supposed to let it go?* It feels like I was having a gourmet meal when the table cloth was yanked and everything went flying off the table, leaving me with a terrible mess to clean. *What choice do I have?* I need to make sense of this breakup. There’s a small voice in my head that gets louder everyday. It’s not very nice, but it rings true. *Of course Kevin broke up with you.* It says. *You thought the man of your dreams was madly in love with you? Get serious*. *Of course he’s leaving, he never wanted to be here. The universe has finally realized it’s mistake*. The idea hurts but I can see it. I can make peace with it. *That’s okay then*. *I can accept that.* I start to think. I share the idea with Kevin. I’d like him to confirm it. “What? No Maria. What are you talking about?” Kevin reacts. “Of course I still like you, and love you, and want you and always have.” He speaks with admonishment that I would believe the opposite. I stare perplexed. I was expecting the opposite. He was going to come clean and own the fact that he never really wanted to be with me. it was going to hurt but letting go was going to be easier from now on. “Um... You do?” I respond, unsure why he feels the need to lie to me. “Yes!” He insists. “Then why are we breaking up!?” I shout. Frustrated that what was finally making sense makes no sense again. “I told you. We weren’t affectionate, we weren’t romantic. We turned into friends. That’s not the kind of relationship I want to have.” I shake my head. I hate that answer. “We can change that. If we both agree we still have feelings for one another there are things we can do!” I yell, starting the argument we’ve had several times already. “We’ve tried before.” He replies, calmly, dejected, and on cue. “Not like this. Not knowing breaking up was the result of failing.” “I don’t want it to be forced.” He repeats, slowly pronouncing every word. Hoping I will finally understand. “What’s wrong with trying?” I ask but I’ve lost my vigor. I know his mind is made up. I know there is no reasonable argument that can change his mind. I hear the determination of his decision increase every time we have this argument. “Maybe at another point in our lives. Maybe once we have some space and time we can come back and have the relationship we were supposed to have. I just can’t make you any promises.” I sit back and close my eyes. *The relationship we were supposed to have.* That’s hilarious. He holds just as much responsibility in creating this dynamic as I do. More actually. We were doing just fine until he decided to withdraw affection from me for the sake of protecting his delicate heart all those years ago. But I know I am just as guilty for letting it happen. *We made it this way and we can also unmake it.* I believe wholeheartedly. I just don’t know how to show him. I don’t want to be bitter, but it’s getting difficult not to. I love Kevin so much, I want to be friendly, kind and understanding. But he gave up, and the anger I hold for his decision starts to leak through in our interactions. I become short and snappy. My own annoyed reactions to his simple inquiries catch me by surprise. I don’t recognize this person. He doesn’t comment on my hostility. I think he feels guilty. I am acting like the victim to a crime he has committed. I am convinced I am. *Kevin made a choice. I just happen to be affected*. I try to talk myself out of it when I feel the subtle indignation peaks. *Nothing has been done to you. You are not a victim.* I want to be rational, but the anger is intense. *Kevin obviously did hurt you!* I argue back*. The ache in your chest proves it. It’s his fault you feel like this!* My thoughts spiral. *You wouldn’t be in pain if it wasn’t for him. But I want to be above it*. I remind myself. Living with him has made it imperative we get along. I don’t want to live in a hostile environment. *He didn’t ruin my life. My life isn’t ruined. I am going to be okay, blame is not necessary. Blame does nothing.* I practice believing that whenever I feel the hot anger overcome me. I picture myself calm and loving towards him. It’s not difficult it’s what I most want. Slowly I start to stip away the anger. I want to be his friend, I miss him. Being kind is first and foremost. “Hope is a problem. “She says through the headphones in my ear. “Hoping for something to happen does not motivate action. Hope makes you passive. It’s dreaming about a circumstance that you have no control over. It’s exchanging this current moment for a future better one. Hope sounds lovely. But that is deceptive. If you want something, you have to take action. You have to decide. It is up to you.” I turn off the podcast and stare at my ceiling. I’ve been staring at my ceiling a lot lately. For the first time just listening to the thoughts in my head. They’re so loud. “I am living on hope.*”* I admit outloud to the ceiling. Hope is all I eat, sleep and drink lately. It sustains me. “I want him to change his mind. I hope he changes his mind.” I mumble. Saying the thoughts I hold dear. “I am just not ready to let go. All I have left is hope*.”* But her words strike me. She’s right, hoping is keeping me helpless. *So how do I force myself not to want him? How do you stop wanting what you want?* I throw the pillow I am gripping against the wall. This is frustrating. I lay back down and stare at the ceiling some more, maybe the answer is in one of the crevasses up there. A half hour later I get up. *I don’t want to be helpless or at his whim*. I know that much. I have no control over what he does or decides and I don’t know what to do about this desire. But I can do something. I can focus on the few things I have control over. For the next 6 months I go into serious self improvement mode. My life has been turned on its head and instead of sitting around being at it’s mercy I make some decisions. I start to put back together my gourmet meal, one broken dish at a time. I reluctantly accept the reality of the situation. I start to imagine what life is going to require of me without Kevin. For one, I need to get my finances on track. I don’t know anything about credit, I don’t have an ounce of savings and I could probably be making more money than I am. I dive deep into all things self help. I learn about the power of meditation. The pain from the heartbreak is so unbelievably heavy and constant, I learn quickly meditating helps me process the pain in a way I’ve never experienced. Eventually I get up feeling a little less melancholy. A little more at ease. I read a book on nutrition, decide to cut out processed foods and lose a bunch of weight. I join a crossfit class since I’ve always wanted to be someone that exercises regularly. I become vegetarian after spending a lonely fourth of July weekend watching vegan documentaries on Netflix. Distracting myself from the fact that Kevin was going to tell his family that we were over. I learn about investing and open a savings account and a Roth IRA. I quit my job with crap hours and get a better paying one that is 9 to 5. It’s as if the pain from the breakup motivates me to do things I never would have. I am taking ownership of my life. I start dreaming and making plans for myself years down the road. I feel a sense of control again. I ask myself what I truly want, if I could have anything? Who do I want to become? *Confident. Thriving. Independent.* I dare to believe what might be possible. You could say I start to hope, but better, I start to plan. During these months Kevin and I grew close again. The immediate pain of being broken up receded and we spent our afternoons together. We cherished the time knowing we would soon be apart. We no longer played mind games, we weren’t afraid to be vulnerable and real. All of the issues we had, any resentment that we held, dissipated. None of it seemed to matter. We showed up authentically without agendas and expectations. We were still intimate on occasion, but it became less frequent over time. We were slowly letting go of each other. Counting down the days until the end of our lease. Once in awhile I would check in and wonder why we were breaking up. Seeing if maybe he’d rethought the decision. Considering how great we were getting along it made no sense. “If you say that maybe someday we can make it work, why can’t we break up with the intention of coming back to each other?” I asked one morning as he ironed his clothes and I journaled at the kitchen table. “Because I don’t want us to put our lives on hold for each other, that’s not fair to either of us.” “I would. If you asked me to.” I proclaimed “I wouldn’t ask you to.” “But you want to stay friends. You don’t think that’s unfair to ask?” “I don’t want to lose you from my life Maria.” he says passionately. “Maybe we aren’t meant to be together but I do think we belong in each other’s life. Don’t you?” *Well of course I do. I am in love with you.* I think but ignore it and keep writing instead to hide my frustration. Kevin’s insistence that we stay friends was both amazing and awful. Certainly the joy of still having his company keeps me interested. But what if being his friend keeps me pinning? That sounds like a nightmare. He thinks we can make it work that everything will be fine. I am not as confident. Kevin informs me that he has been looking for apartments a few months before our lease is set to end. I put it off, I still have plenty of time. Also, what if we miraculously somehow end up staying together? A little hope lingers in the background. That’s not why I am waiting. I tell myself. I am just too busy and it’s still too soon. A week later it’s official. “I signed a new lease.” He says. “I got the confirmation yesterday.” *Fuck*. “Oh.” I say quietly. Feeling a tight knot in my stomach. *Wait no.* I never told my coworkers my ex and I were living together, I said he was still my boyfriend. It seemed easier than explaining the situation at the time. And for a few hours in my day I got to live as if it were true. As I walk into work red faced and sniffling I decide it’s time to come clean. I go straight to my manager so I can explain why I’ll be on the verge of tears today. “It’s been a long time coming.” I say “But it’s official, he signed a new lease.” She nods in sympathy. “We’re here for you, whatever you need.” She says giving me a warm look. “Start with the onions.” she suggests with a smile. “That way no one has to wonder about the tears.” I laugh, what a sweet offer. *Will I ever get over this?* I wonder. *This feels like the longest breakup in history. I just want to be better already.* No matter what I do my heart feels splintered into pieces. I can’t think about anything but this. My emotions sway from heartbroken to angry to bargaining to grief. I stay at anger for a long time that day. I hate Kevin for asking me to stay his friend. I can’t fathom not being in love with him. *How can I watch him move on with his life like that?* It is difficult for me to say no to Kevin, that’s part of the hesitation. I wish I could give him whatever he wants but this. “I need to say something.” I declare as we sit down for dinner. “I’d like to hear it.” *I doubt that.* “I know that you’re very adamant that we need to continue a friendship after this. And I get it. In a perfect world so would I. The thing is I can’t see myself being able to move on while we’re friends. I just can’t imagine it. I really think I am going to need space to really mourn this before I can just have you in my life like that.” “Really?” He says sadness in his voice. “How long?” “ I dunno.” I shrug and look away. “A year?” “A YEAR!?” he shouts. “Maybe.” “That’s so long.” “I don’t know I am just guessing.” He stays quiet. And finally nods. “Okay Maria. I know I’ve been incredibly selfish to ask you in the first place, so of course I’ll respect that. Take the time you need.” “ Thank you.” I say relieved. “But if you could shorten it to a couple of months for me that’d be real swell.” He says and smiles. I roll my eyes. I can’t keep putting it off, it’s time for me to find my own apartment. I start my internet search and soon realize I won't be able to really look and choose if I want to get into a place in time of this lease ending. I waited too long, my options are limited. A voice in my head tells me I could just ask to room with Kevin so I can get more time to look but I scoff in refusal. That will not be happening. I imagine what that conversation would look like anyway. Kevin’s disapproving look at my continued unacceptance of this breakup. His reluctant yes at having to keep living with his ex girlfriend, unable to start his new life. I pick the cheapest closest place I find and sign the lease without the option of looking at it first. *Ah well.* I think. *That’s what hope costs you.* I decide that we will cut off contact once we are fully moved into our respective apartments. It’s my decision to do this and yet I dread it. Seeing as I’ve been kicking and screaming throughout all of this, keeping him around as my friend would be an easier middle ground. But I am proud of this decision. I am taking the harder less pleasant option for my ultimate well being. All the literature on breakups say that cutting ties is best so you can fully ‘withdraw’ from your partner and lose dependency. Kevin definitely feels like a drug. Apparently being with him even lights up similar parts of the brain. I am choosing the painful deliberate process of moving on. Although partially out of a fear that not doing means staying stuck for the rest of my life. At the moment I can’t fathom a reality where I am not in love and desperate to be with him. I remind myself that there are enough examples of people getting over the ‘love of their lives’ to believe it’s possible for me. I’d do anything to know their secret. *Time.* Everyone tells me. *It’s time*. But I loathe that answer, I don’t buy it. *Of course it’s time, but what do I DO in that time?* I implore*.* That no one seems to know. *Just live your life?* There are certainly people who kept themselves pinning even after decades of time. I vividly remember a podcast of a man who pines for his high school love into his old age. “I thought about you everyday since I last saw you.” He told her once they were reunited. *EVERYDAY*. I can’t have this with me everyday. That is unacceptable. Does that not prove that it isn’t just time that will work magic? I won’t say that to anyone though. Doing so will reveal the hidden fear that I will be stuck in love unable to move on. Instead I nod and try no to let them see my annoyance at their clichéd answer. *How do I heal? How??* I plead the universe to give me an answer. Finally it’s the night that I am fully moved into my apartment. Our lease has ended our new leases are signed and if there was any hope left within me it was wiped away when he helped me move the couch in. We plan for him to spend the night, our final rendezvous. As expected It’s lovely and sad. I am divided into the me that wants it to be over so I can start to heal and the me that wants it to never end. He is gone when I wake up. I search frantically for my phone and see a text: Kevin: **I love you. I’ll miss you so very much. You were my best friend and I'm so very sad to see us go our separate ways... I wish you the best of luck and I’ll always be thinking about you.** Here it is. I’ve been imagining this, writing this goodbye text in my head for months. **Kevin I love you. My heart aches from your absence. I can only hope time and distance does it’s job and makes it so we can once more be in each others life. I thoroughly look forward to that day. Until then I hope you find joy. Thank you for loving me.** He replies **Thank you for loving me. Goodbye Maria.** It’s beautiful and succinct. I close the phone and cry more endless tears. I’ve stopped wondering when they’ll stop, it’s a fruitless question. I look around my new apartment, life feels empty and hollow, like the pain in my chest. I can’t imagine how I will fill the gap he left. *I need to create something out of this* I think and take a deep breath, owning the weight of that responsibility *maybe* I dare *something amazing.