Music: Dirt Road Anthem - Jason Aldean
It is the non-existent element in my room, with clothes, books and dirty underwear covering the carpeted floor.
Space is the vast emptiness above me that is sometimes littered with a million stars so far away but shine bright nonetheless.
Space is the quiet house that I come home to from time to time when my roommates, whom I now call my family, is busy dealing with their own lives.
Space is the reason he and I decided to walk down our separate paths.
I'm trying hard to grapple with this concept of space. How much space is enough space? And how much space is too much space? Is there such a thing as too much space?
I've decided to name him "Kevin" for now because for the longest time, my roommates thought his name was Kevin. And so it's become kind of a thing between us, to just refer him to Kevin because admittedly, it gets hard to say his name and not think of things in the past.
I saw Kevin again today. I had forgotten how much I had fallen in love with his tiny smile. For a split second there, it brought me back to the past, when "fighting" was never an issue. What did fighting even mean to us?
Fighting over where the remote to the tv was. Fighting over who should get up and use the bathroom first. Fighting over who drank more beer.
I don't know when the fighting turned into the both of us kneeling in tears, afraid at the thought of losing each other and also afraid at the thought of being with each other.
Kevin walked away from me and I took the courage to not look back. Kevin's always going to walk away from me, from the life we had and I have to stop holding on to whatever it is I am holding on to. Whether it's the tiny thing of watching him do homework or the large moments where I'm grasping his hand, assuring him he's going to be fine, getting through the school year.
I have to let it go because he already has. He's already given up the back rubs, the coffee dates and study sessions.
A little part of me wished that we had gotten breakfast together, and he would have the courage to hold my hand and tell me that he still loved me. That it wasn't a status thing, it wasn't about his fraternity. It was just about him and I and that our love hasn't burned out.
But I'm writing to you now, with a glass of wine and dinner as my first meal of the day, telling you that reality is nothing close to my wishes. It lies on the opposite end and I have no idea where Kevin is or what he's even thinking of right now.
I'm on the right track to making "Kevin" a certified stranger.
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Ne m'oubliez pas.
