In 4 days time, we won’t have lived together for a whole year.
It is already over 365 days since we split. One whole year. A year in which you’ve found yourself, and I thoroughly lost myself, though have begun finding myself amongst the ashes since.
A year since I’ve sat with my head against you, a year since we have been ‘us’, and not ‘you’ and ‘me’. For years, you were my other half, but you held all the mechanical, essential parts of me. My thoughts, my dreams, my heart. A year of building, or rebuilding, of finding out what was actually yours, not mine. A year in which I’ve fought to find my own thoughts, my own dreams, to build my own heart that I solely own. In the last year, we have veered off in such different directions – you have stayed exactly as you were, and yet also become someone I do not recognise. I never knew who I was, but I, too, have become someone I never knew was possible. We are still connected by the dogs, and by the way we weaved our lives together in such intricacy that it is now impossible to fully untangle.
This doppelganger of you, the one who keeps proving to me that we could never have been our whole selves together, went to a party a few days ago.
A ‘friend’ thought it kind to tell me you fucked some slut you’d just met in your hotel room. I do not care about that, but I do care that I must have only known a fragment of you. It was easier for you to know all of me – I was a fractured, vulnerable, exposed disaster of myself for the years we were together. But you were always so whole, and now I am wondering if I only knew the surface of you.
I don’t care about her. But I do care about this: in the photos on social media, there is one that took my breath away. She isn’t even in it. But you are. The back of your head, the curve of your neck down to your collar, the contrast of dark hair against that rarely touched skin. The cut of suit you favour. The way your fingers curl around the neck of the champagne bottle balanced on your knee. It took my breath away because I recognised you, this doppelganger I barely know, from the back of your neck, half out of focus at the edge of someone else’s picture. From the softest of places that I once knew so well.
It has been over a year. But you were mine, and I was yours, and I don’t know how we ever truly move on from the intimacy, or the depth, of our love and knowledge of each other. It was broken and painful, but it was so, so deep.