Just a Few Things I Wanted to Say.


“I need to talk to someone. I need to talk to you. I don’t know why, but I have the overwhelming urge to pick up the phone, dial your number (even though I no longer know it), and just say hi. But I can’t do that. So I’m going to write it down. I’ll probably post it on the blog.

Tomorrow is my last day at work. I finally quit, like you always said I should. It’s funny because I’ve kept things so quiet, not even making it clear on social media what was going on. That would normally be the first thing I’d shout about. I’m quitting my job to be a full time writer. That’s pretty big-time stuff, right?

I wish I could pick up the phone and tell you. I wish I could reveal my newest big adventure. I might not be globe-trotting any more, making my way from one side of the world to the other, but I’m still having an adventure each and every day. That’s what I love about life. Just when you think it’s all over, when things are going to slow down and you’re going to need to be an adult, something comes along. Something happens. Life is never boring for long.

I know you’d be so proud of me. Just so you know, I’m crying as I write this. I don’t really know why. It’s a real adamant sob too. My lip is wobbling from all the anger I have towards you, trying to keep the tears in. But I can’t. Sometimes I just gotta cry about you. I accept that. You were such a huge deal in my life.

My TimeHop is filled with little memories of you. A year ago today, I was trying to put together the finishing touches of that jar of little envelopes I gave you. I had such a hard time with that thing, and it took me months and months to complete. 365 (or there about’s) tiny little hand-made envelopes, each one filled with a tiny snippet of my blog – something about you. It was mostly good, although there were a few little bad ones in there, but the aim of the game was to make you smile for 365 days – the same amount of days you had made me smile. Because every day, although I wasn’t always that happy with you, you did make me smile. Every single fucking day. And even now, I’ll remember things that we once did together and it makes me smile. Anyway, isn’t that the cutest gift for our one year anniversary? I sure thought so.

They played our song at work on the radio today – that little John Legend beauty. It still breaks my heart each and every time I hear it, and during that penultimate shift, it was almost enough to make me cry. Tomorrow is going to be a shit-show, and more than anything I want you to give me a kiss on the forehead and tell me everything will be OK. I’ve been really pining for you recently, and I don’t know or understand why. It was months ago that we broke up. I thought I would be halfway to being over you by now. Apparently not.

I’ve often wondered what you did with those envelopes. I wonder if you carried on reading them every morning like I told you to. I wonder if you look at them now. Every now and again, sneakily so that your new girlfriend would never know…? I wonder if you do that? I wonder if you have a new girlfriend. I wonder why you’re not on POF anymore. I wonder if you ever think about us? Whether or not you get little flashbacks to the life we once had together? I don’t know why I wonder this stuff though. I don’t ever want to know.

I often think about what would happen if you were to come back into my life, and I genuinely hope that situation never arises. I don’t know what I’d do. I’d want to walk away, head held high, winning that fucking awful breakup war. In reality, I think I’d crumble. I’d cry for sure. You’d get to me because you always knew how. You’d win me over with some other cheesy love song. You’d look deep into my eyes with yours, and I’d fall in love with your baby blues in a heartbeat. Just like I always did. And then we’d end up in bed together. Just like we always did. For an old guy, you really did play my body very well. I will never know how you managed to make me putty in your hands. I will always miss the way your fingers once felt on my skin.

But all that aside, I quit my fucking job. That thing you always wanted me to do – quit my day job and become a full time writer; I’m finally doing it. And I’m so scared. I wish you were there to hold my hand. In fact, I wish you’d been there to hold my hand through a lot of what I’ve been through over the last few months. But you weren’t. I’ll get over that one day.

In fact, you know what? I won’t. I won’t ever get over that. Ever. Thanks for leaving me just as I was going through my two near-fucking-close brushes with cancer. Yes, that’s right. The benign polyp they found in my bowel wasn’t as benign as I was told by my doctors it was… Another story for another day perhaps.

Tomorrow is my last day. I wish you knew that. I wish you knew half of what had been going on in my life recently. I almost lost the plot but I didn’t. You would have been so proud of me. I think I managed to snap myself out of the shit just moments before it consumed me. I’m still recovering. From you, from being sick, from all of it. I have a lot to recover from. I think that’s OK.

I really miss being able to talk to you. I thought after I blocked you, you might try to email me with something grand to say. But you didn’t. I guess whatever you had to say that night wasn’t that damn important after all. I’m glad I didn’t respond. You see, I loved you, still love you in fact, but I’m not that much of a masochist to try and tame you one more time. You are untameable, as am I. And together we would either have been brilliant, or we would have failed spectacularly. I put all of my eggs in your basket, of course they were the two only outcomes. And we chose the latter. Boy did we.

So there you have it Jock. Just a few things I wanted to say to you but can’t.

Still love you.”

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