The Promises That Outlasted Us

It’s hard not to let yourself miss someone. I don’t, because I feel like I’m not allowed. Whenever my mind enters that area, the void feels so close, and if I decide to jump, I know I won’t come across a good welcome.

I have always written subtly about this one, but I feel like it is time to reveal what really went down.

We met right before I moved abroad. It felt both like an award and a punishment at the same time. He rescued me from the toxic cycle I kept finding myself in, offering me healing through a gentle path.

I was amazed by the person he was, the exact type that I've been craving my entire life. Conversations were full of depth, a presence that didn't feel recent but the lifelong type. The punishment was a part of the way he became an award. What I was gifted was the person I found, someone so special that life felt like it was punishing me for setting us apart.

Even so, moving away was inevitable. I had been postponing it for a long time. I knew I owed it to myself, that if I didn’t go, I would regret it all my life.

So we said goodbye, and I set myself apart. Yet the distance didn’t keep us apart; we talked every day during the first month. Then something shifted. His tone wasn’t the same anymore. The conversations I thought I could enjoy for a lifetime were gone.

Owing to my anxious attachment’s nature, I noticed right away. He wasn’t the gaslighting type, so he took the high road and talked to me, which revealed he was the avoidant kind. He feared I’d stand in the way of him reaching his dreams. When I heard that, I immediately woke up. At the time, walking away wasn’t hard. I had no interest in being someone’s burden, whereas in reality, I was the one making the sacrifice.

There’s a very common pattern in every emotionally unavailable person’s life. As soon as they notice your energy is gone, they crawl back, showcasing bits of effort to pull you back into what they once dismissed you from.

It was too late for me. I had already opened my eyes, busy having the best summer of my life in London. He apologised and all, but it didn’t matter much.

I have this threshold for every person I love and deeply care for. Up until a point, whatever they do is fine, even when it hurts most of the time.

I thought he had filled it up. I was too quick to jump to conclusions once again. Later in life, I realised I had given him special treatment, granting a limit that exceeded anyone else’s.

Even though he hurt me more than anyone else who ever entered my life, it was always the hardest to pull out a “no” when he was the one across.

Towards the end of summer, I returned home, and he was with me the entire time. We had a marvellous time, then said “I love you” for the first time.

He seemed way more committed this time. Yet this didn’t stop him from believing his evil friend, the kind that has inferiority disguised as cruelty in his heart, and shutting me out one more time.

Around that time, he also revealed that he had a problem with my condition, health-wise, which still is the worst thing I could hear from someone, especially if I loved them that much.

I can’t believe how stupid I am. How can I go back home to see him, knowing that he never accepted who I was and what I had to live with? Could anyone believe this was real love?

Obviously, this fool who sits behind the keyboard right now.

I swallowed my hurt and accepted his offer to go on a holiday together.

Only the first night was a fairytale. The second day, he repeated something hurtful, and I questioned why I even bothered to come.

To be honest, I became very irritatingly annoying afterwards, and he acknowledged that very kindly. That’s when I realised we were good together. He handled me better than anyone ever did, even when I acted like a bitch at the time.

The rest of the holiday was very nice. We became the perfect team, each other’s partner in crime. When I returned to London, we declared that we were valentines.

The long-distance aspect scared us both, but he convinced me we could work it out. It didn’t take him long to forget every promise he gave me once

Being loved by him was the most sacred thing I’ve ever known,

something words could never fully own.

I was his person, he was mine,

and every day he swore life would never draw a line.

I don’t know if that was gift or curse,

because when he left, grief became my universe.

Now I live with a question pressed against my chest:

will any other love ever make me feel so blessed?

Part of me hopes the answer is no,

because if it did, I’d relive the doubt I’ve come to know—

the doubt that whispered I was unlovable

when I had shown who I truly was.

Towards the end, I couldn’t recognize the person he became and I didn't like the person I turned into. I felt deeply upset and cried all the time, telling myself to act cool, deep down my eyes were always on my phone to see whether he texted or gave me a call.

In the end, we broke up. That was the time I realized it was a lie all along. The love I once saw in his eyes was entirely gone. He either criticized me or made me feel like I wasn't worthy of his love anymore.

Tears still shed to my eyes when I remind myself of the way he told me that he wasn’t in love with me anymore. I questioned his humanity, because even with someone you never liked, you’d never choose to be as cruel when you are breaking their heart.

We got back to our own lives. I had done nothing but numb myself to not question whether he even loved me at all, or he just liked the idea of me until it was no longer fun.

After a certain time, I felt a lot better getting back to my routine and my life. I thought this breakup was the best thing that ever happened to me, that it simply saved my life.

His pain came later, when mine was gone. Like every other guy, he held on to how strong he felt without me in his life.

He reached out several times, very persistently, never giving up. But this time, I was right about my threshold. His space was entirely gone.

He couldn’t take it, and his mind began weaving threads of paranoia. The silence became a canvas for stories that were never mine, where trust unraveled and shadows spoke louder than truth. He started to believe in betrayals that didn’t exist, in lines I would never cross, even in dreams. And in those imagined worlds, the last fragile pieces of us fell apart.

At the last conversation we had, he called me a witch, and I blocked him from everywhere.

Even so, it breaks my heart to see things went down this way. Forget lovers, we were best friends once.