Some forever not for better:
I’m horrible with endings. I always have been. I hate leaving things behind. When I was a little girl, I’d scour hotel rooms before we checked out, making sure I had every rubber band and every crayon. I couldn’t bear to think that I’d left a part of me somewhere that I couldn’t return, and that I’d never see it again.
I’ve always had a difficult time letting go of people as well. For all my affected cynicism, I’m sort of naïve when it comes human interaction—if I’ve had a positive, close relationship with someone in the past, part of me expects that to always stay the same, regardless of what else happens. I don’t have any interest in holding grudges or staying bitter, but I do try to distance myself from situations turned sour, even though I always keep that little tiny bit of hope alive. Sometimes I’m seized with that feeling when I’m in a good mood or driving down the street and a song comes on, and I suddenly want to reach out to someone who’s no longer around and say, “Oh, remember this? Remember that? This is so silly, why can’t we be friends like we used to?”
But you can’t control whether or not someone else still wants to know you, and with some people, I guess that’s probably for the best. That’s where I feel silly though, because once someone has made a big enough impact on my life for me to consider them part of my inner circle, they never really leave my heart. The past year has seen some people go out of my life that used to play a large part in it. For whatever reasons these changes came about, whether it was for the best, or my decision, or completely out of my hands, it doesn’t change the fact that I still think about them, and miss them. Sometimes I don’t miss them being a part of my life, or sometimes I only miss the good parts, but I always miss knowing them.
I have no idea if people still think of me this way too, or if they have the ability to move on and not look back. I don’t think I’d want that ability even if I could have it, though. If that makes me naïve, so be it. Working up a callus to people you used to treasure takes energy I can’t spare.