The Conversation that Never Happened

You said it was all over, you were going to leave. You couldn’t stand it anymore: the ups and downs, the low self-esteem, the whining. You couldn’t stand me anymore. You didn’t know how you had held on for so long. Or why.

Perhaps it was not that you didn’t love me—you still did. But you did not love that other part of me, the one I also did not love. Together, we hated it, that part of me. And it would not go away, and you thought it would, and we wished it would, but you were wrong, and we were left in this place, at the point of no return.

I know that I made you say these things, and I regret it. I’m sorry for putting words into your mouth, and for believing them.

This conversation happened before it happened. In fact, this conversation never happened; it was all inside my head.

I talk to you and you say none of these things. You think none of these things.

You don’t hate that part of me, but you’re sad because I do.

I’m not up and down: I am myself. I’m not whining: I am mourning, the way that other half of me takes over, turning me into someone else.

But nevertheless, you love me. You’re not going to leave. You can stand it, you know why you’ve been holding on.

You’re holding on because you love me. Because we promised each other that it would never be over.

But in loving me, you must love that other part of me, too. You cannot hate it, because it is a part of me. You must love it enough for both of us. Because, whatever conversation we have, it is not going away.

 

Do you ever have conversations with other people in your head before you actually talk to them? Did things end up happening the way you imagined they would?

 

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