The “I miss you’s” came back a few days ago. It could have been the roller coaster or seeing you last week that brought them on… or maybe it’s the fact that I’m moving again. For the third time. In less than six months.
It’s an odd sensation to feel this way. It’s kind of a mix between I miss you, I love you, let’s work this out… and You. Fucking. Asshole.
I realize this isn’t your fault. Well, my current circumstances aren’t your fault. Well, not entirely, anyway.
I’m going to be 28 this year which is certainly old enough to have figured out what the hell I’m doing with my life, but alas, here I am, at the same company I’ve worked for since I met you nearly ten years ago. I’m making more money, but not nearly enough. I could have changed that at any time; I could have pursued a career, gone to school, something… and I didn’t. My bad.
So, now I’m living with my mom. And, as tiny as it might be, I have my very! own! room! My own bed. My own space. It’s awesome.
But… I’m living with my mom.
Those same anxious, fearful feelings have come back, the same ones I felt when I first moved out and away from you in February. So, most likely, this “I miss you” is really just “I miss my life” and it’s being brought on by worry over what if this doesn’t work out? What if living here is awful? What if this is the very worst thing to ever happen to me? I just want to go home!
Although, what if I’m wrong? Maybe I do want to work it out and give our marriage another billion chances. (God knows it might need ’em.) What if I chalk these feelings up to another move, another home that’s not really mine, and I’m totally… wrong?
What if I feel this way because I’m in love with you and I really do miss you and I really do want to work it out?
I keep telling myself that I’m better off, that we’re better off. I mean, two people who are as incompatible as we are, who have as many issues as we do, should just not be married. Right?
But… what if we could fix our mistakes? What if we could actually put in the effort and improve our marriage? Could you imagine what it’d be like? I tell people sometimes, “when things were good, they were really, really good.” Could you imagine a lifetime of “really, really good?”
We’d be one of those couples that’s married for so long that people are shocked and wide-eyed and prompted to say things like, “wow, that’s so rare these days” when they hear the number. We’d be a total success story.
And, despite all we went through, I honestly never thought it’d be any different.
I keep dreaming of you. Well, not exactly. I keep dreaming that I’ve received an e-mail from you, something long and heart-wrenching about how sorry you are and how you’ve finally realized what a jackass you’ve been and how you’ll go positively MAD if I don’t come back.
The dreams never fail to wake me up and I open my eyes with the intense need to check my e-mail right this second. In fact, I did once. The second or third time I had the dream. It felt so real I was sure I was having a psychic moment and I jumped out of bed to tackle my laptop.
Of course, there was no e-mail and I’ve gotten pretty good since then about telling myself it’s just a dream before abandoning the warmth of my bed just to be faced with the harsh reality of an empty in-box. My spiteful subconscious really should know better, anyway. You are so not the type to pour your heart out over anything or ever admit you were wrong.
I guess it’s just wishful thinking.
I still love you.