But the anchor didn’t stay; it was dragged along the bottom. The current was too strong to keep it in place.
Despite crying, despite talking, despite all arguments to the contrary, we broke up. Kind of. For a year. Maybe a year. We’ll talk about it again at certain predetermined points, see how it’s going and what we want to do. In the meantime…
I am remembering how to be me again.
Now, as I stand on my own two feet and regain my individuality, I can look back and choose him again.
The phoenix burns before it is reborn. And I burned the first long month, and the month before. I have been dragged through hell, kicking and screaming, but I have come out standing on my own.
I lost much of my baggage along the way. The suitcase was too heavy to carry, and the backpack burst into flames halfway through, so all I’ve got left is my purse.
There was a corner store on the way out and I bought myself a fire extinguisher. I hope it lasts through the next few months, and through the conversation that may or may not redefine our relationship.
Maybe breaking up for the year wasn’t the worst decision on a list of bad decisions. Maybe sticking together would have been worse. I’m not sure. And I doubt I’ll ever be sure. You can’t redo the past and hindsight is not always 20/20.
It’s not just that I miss him, because I would miss him anyway. And we talk, though probably less often than we otherwise would. It’s that I want the labels back. I want to be his girlfriend and I want him to be my boyfriend. The connection is still there, though muted, suppressed. Can it survive the year as it is? Can I?
Being in limbo is harder than breaking up forever, but I don’t want to break up forever. So maybe, in a way, it’s easier. But if he says that he doesn’t want to get back together…I don’t know. Maybe in a few months it would be easier, will be easier to understand. Or maybe it will shatter my trust and it really will be breaking up forever.
You can forge a sword in the fire, but you can also melt one. And foresight is never 20/20.