ello, jello

In a year, I’ll be back at the place where all of this started

The same place I visited on my summer breaks as a child

The same place I ran away to the second I turned 18

The place where I moved after graduating with my two bachelors degrees

The same place I fled just over a year ago after I stopped recognizing my own brain.

I have an entire year to prepare for my return… even so it wracks me with waves of anxiety

The part that stresses me out, of course, is my main muse for this entire blog

The poison apple

Ms. Smiley

The spider weaving her intricate nest

My unstable lover

Psychosis was a funny word, it was one she wore proudly. When we would shower I’d wash her feet and we’d eat our lunches on the pier. There’s so much I missed from that era, and so much that ai’m dreading going back to again.

When I broke up with her for the second time, she called me selfish. When you’re in love, she said, you’re supposed to work it out. How could I be so selfish as to break up with her without talking to her first? It’s not you, I said – it’s me. I’m just not ready to be in a relationship. I’ve lost myself and I need to go back home. It’s not right for me here and it’s starting to get dark again. She barely accepted it then. Barely accepted it the months afterward while I put in my notice at work and left two months after that. We officially called it off a year ago. And now here we are.

I’m going back.

That’s a given.

But I’m going back with my brother. And I’m going back with my Dad. And I’m going back with my car and a little bit of money and I’m going back with a plan.

I’m going to reach out to her. Which may be very stupid. But I think it’ll be the closure I need. I don’t want to be fearful of the Pacific Northwest. I know it’ll never be like it was before, but I want excitement to be at the forefront of my mind. I want joy to be the first emotion I feel when I think of visiting my family and friends there. I am not someone who hides from the fear. I look it in the eye and tell it “you can’t hurt me anymore”. And that’s why I’m meeting with her.

I don’t know if she’ll still be living there, but I’m going to text her about a month or so in advance. Something like: hey. Idk if you’re still in redacted but I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be there from date to date and if you’re available I’d like to invite you for coffee/tea at coffee shop and catch up if that’s something you’re up to. No worries if you’re not. Hope you’re doing well.

Im going to set it up so that I have something planned immediately afterward so that it doesn’t go on for too long. I think an hour, maybe an hour and a half should be perfect. I’ll wear something I feel really good in. Maybe I’ll be in a relationship at that time. Maybe I won’t be stressing about it as much as I am right now. Or maybe I’ll be shitting bricks. But I’ll wear the trench coat that I love so much. And I’ll wear my nice jewelry and I’ll wear my good gay shoes that don’t make my feet feel awful. I’ll have the right haircut and my skin will look good and Ivy and I will talk.

I don’t know who she’ll be in a year. I don’t know who she is right now. All I can hope for is that she’s well and that she’s matured. I don’t think I’m looking for an apology. I just want cordial conversation with someone who I used to be infatuated with, someone I was codependent with, someone I used to cry with and laugh with and travel with. Someone who hurt me so deeply and someone who tried their best to fix the pieces. I tried my fucking hardest with her, and it was never going to work. she was always going to destroy me. I don’t want to be friends with her, and during coffee I’m going to tell her that. I can’t be thinking of her anymore. I can only make decisions for myself. I need to move on.

Afterwards I’ll need to process it. I’ll call a friend or go to Pilates or go for a walk in the woods. I’ll cry and I’ll laugh and I’ll cry some more. And this time it’ll be my turn to say goodbye.