The Break-Up

I’m going to disappoint you. But you knew that already. It is not as if I didn’t struggle with the decision. I did. For days together. I thought I was strong enough to make up my mind and carry on. But it wasn’t easy to give up what you and I have. Even as I write this, with you still in the room, my entire being is rejecting my resolve.

But I am left with no option. Your heady fragrance, that mad rush you give me by just being there every morning is slowly turning into my nemesis. I didn’t pay much attention when the world told me that this might happen. Maybe I didn’t want to understand it back then. I felt drawn to you and at that moment, that is all that mattered.

I have always felt that love is insanity at best and a habit, at worst. You have turned into both for me. I still remember that evening; I was out on a walk; my pace was slow, but my mind was rushed. I had just turned 25, and the world thought I had little to worry about, but my mind disagreed. I walked into Woody’s in an attempt to thwart the cacophony of voices in my thought. I had this vague feeling that forcing myself to talk to people, even if it was someone behind the food counter, will help me quell the storm in my head.

And next thing I knew, I was sitting with you, as I have before, on the table by the large window to the front of the cafe, the one with potted plants right outside and a protected view of the market. That evening I knew I would sit at that table with you on many more evenings. Of course, evenings quickly changed to mornings, changed to every other moment I found myself without much to do.

My habit turned to insanity the day I couldn’t stop at Woody’s like I had gotten used to. I met my family that night for dinner, and I fidgeted through three courses. I stared at them while they tried to make conversation. My brother took one look at my bumbling presence and read me like a book. Dessert then became about me instead of the pannacotta. I didn’t blame them. The first time we parted, they spent days helping me replace your memories with new ones. And yet, there I was. Caught in your swirl.

I know we have been through this before. That initial blaze, the phase when I find comfort in you and then that fall into the deep abyss of anxiety and sleepless nights; which is why I am confident that in this instant while I sit and write this you can tell what is to come from the other end of the room. You know I have had one of those nights, where I felt restless enough to walk around the house contemplating the profound questions of life. You know I get like this. You must have even sensed it in how my hands shivered this morning when I held you. Maybe for the very last time.

I know I will always love you. But I also know that if I carry this on I might become incapable of loving. My mind might convince me that you have only ever hurt me when the truth is that it was great while it lasted. Maybe there is no everlasting love to be had in this world. Maybe there are only phases of companionship. Then shouldn’t we just cherish that instead of weighing it down with expectations of a life-long commitment?

I’d much rather remember the beautiful times I spent looking at the morning sun with you by my side. I’d much rather walk into the sunset with the knowledge that you and I had our time. I will miss you dearly. My companion, my love, my brown, milky, sweet coffee. I will miss you forever. Oh, how I wish you didn’t trigger my anxiety. How I wish we could have met differently.