Exposed to the elements

Is it possible to recognize a place I've never been? There was a time I thought so. The familiar settled feeling I got as I traveled through the Italian countryside. However, this time the feeling doesn't come accompanied with the luxury of simply delicious cuisine and the answers to the questions of my ancestry revealed. This time the familiarity is accompanied by something unsettling. The awkward place somewhere between lovers and friends.

How did I arrive at this unlikely place? I guess here I can learn a lesson from nature. Two weeks ago the ground had thawed and I thought it was the beginning of spring. Now I look out my window and see white flurries dancing in the wind. The arrival of love, much like the changing of seasons, seems never fully certain.

What do I do when someone plays with my heart, taunting me with words, teasing me with touch, holding me in their gaze? Inevitably, I lose myself, as anyone given the chance to make things right with their high school sweetheart would. As everything unfolds I realize my grievances now are the same as they were then: a) I feel judged/misunderstood; b) we weren't faithful either in heart or body; c) he's too selfish to concern himself with me; d) we are not a part of each others lives.

And yet, the boy I used to call mon petite prince has enchanted me. With just one fateful meeting, one message, one kiss I've lost my footing. I've been stumbling here for a while. Swaying between holding on and letting go. I felt like I've been letting the past trap my future decisions, weighing what was more heavily against what is. And now I'm weary. So much back and forth, too many ups and downs, I'm exhausted. With the words: "You are a distraction. Distractions are only good for a certain amount of time" the spell was broken.

Luckily, "Dear John"s are somewhat of a specialty of mine. This one went like this:

"And so here I am, in the same place I was seven years ago. But today I've
realized I haven't changed that much. After being told, "you're a distraction...
distractions are only good for so long," the painful feeling of being right has
washed over me. Surprisingly, it doesn't sting; what I am left with is a numbing
headache.

Was there a better way to say that you don't want to be with
me? Surely others have had more tact. I feel like I'm in a place where honesty
doesn't exist, but instead of succumbing to the silence I will just say these
words:

You strung me along and I thought that you wanted to be with me.
Then suddenly, you changed direction. Your words, your behaviour, your absence
were cold and unsettling. Your silence mounted my insecurity. You don't have to
tell me you don't want me, you've shown me.

Can I be your friend? I'm
not sure my friends treat me this way. I'm not sure we have ever been good at
being friends because despite how much you've hurt me I'll always want you to be
that person. The person you don't want to be.

This time I'm not running away, I'm being pushed."

What of a response? The equivalent of guilty evasive. His words were empty, his disposition despondent. I decide to slowly let myself slip away, and disappear as I had done seven years ago. But first, the orchestrated goodbye. That's how I found myself at his show last Thursday, and that's how I found myself greeted by the words, "I love you so much."

The first time he said those words, we were watching Ally McBeal and they were debating whether “sometimes love just isn’t enough.” Seven years ago he turned to me and etched those words on my heart. I’m afraid, this time; his words won’t be enough.