subject line: p.s. this is why i left.

 

san jose, costa rica

The idea of us has always been better than our reality. Lonely cups of coffee and phone calls that I purposely missed proved to me that we were better as separate piles of ashes than as a single flame that could be blown out by the slightest breath. I told myself things were better than they were, trying to convince myself that I didn’t leave my home, my country, my language, my life, for someone who didn’t want me, couldn’t want me.

But then all of a sudden I had 2 more months left with you after trying to make it for a year. After emptying myself and trying to believe that you would be there to fill me up. I stayed this long because you knew the right words to whisper to me when I was at the point of giving up, because you knew I lived for those split-seconds where everything was right. I waited and waited for something more, but you made me wait one time too many, and so I made up my mind to do what was best for me even if it meant my broken heart or both of ours. I don’t know why you couldn’t commit, when I gave you every last breath I had to try to make us work. But I knew that being with you was hurting me, and I knew this place was not my home, as desperately as I had tried to make it be.

Then you told me you had fallen in love with me. And you told me you would spend the rest of your life in love with me even though we can’t be together. But planes don’t wait and time keeps moving and goodbyes always hurt and I’m wondering how anyone does this.