Welcome to the 3rd day of Blogtober! I’m grateful to say my fingers haven’t fallen off yet, and new blog ideas are occurring to me at every moment.
This post is going to be the first part in a six part series, answering the questions that Will Darbyshire posed to his followers and then compiled to make ‘This Modern Love’.
‘This Modern Love’ is adorable. I read it in the middle of September and was surprised by how much it affected me: I laughed, I cringed, I almost cried. It’s such a simple idea – get thousands of people from all around the world to discuss their experiences of the beginning, middle and end of love – but because it features so many different stories it’s impossible not to love at least some aspects of it.
I decided I wanted to participate, so over the coming weeks I’m going to answer Will’s questions and complete his tasks. I don’t normally get too personal in my blogging so this is going to be a huge change for me, but that’s the point of Blogtober: trying new things!
I hope you guys enjoy this series of posts – leave a comment below if you think I should do more blogs like this in the future.
1. What would you say to your ex, without judgement?
This is the third draft of this damn letter that I’ve written. I meant to post it two days ago, and each day instead of clicking ‘publish’ I’ve reconsidered every word that I’ve typed and deleted it entirely.
I thought about just typing up one of the other letters I’ve written to you, but that felt like cheating. I wrote them almost four months ago (I can’t believe it’s been that long already) and to cop out and transcribe one of those rather than writing something now… I couldn’t do that.
First things first, I love you.
I think that’s just stating the obvious, but I just wanted us to be on the same page with that, just in case you weren’t aware. I don’t mean the “head over heels, wanting to spend the rest of my life with you, soulmates” kind of love, but the undying, constant, respectful love that you always have towards someone you’ve had feelings for in the past, the kind that could flare up into undying love at any moment but almost never does.
(Side note: do you realise that’s only the second time I’ve ever told you that? The first time didn’t go so well, and we never spoke of it again, but I’ve nearly said it – wanted to say it – a hundred times at least. It was constantly bubbling up on my tongue, the unspeakable truth that I swallowed down and choked upon whenever you got excited about the newest Star Wars news, or the latest issue of a comic series you adored, or puppies. The face you pull when you’re encountered with an adorable dog is one of my favourite things in the world.)
I’m in awe of you. How comfortable you are in your own skin, how confidently you approach every twist and turn in life. You’re a beautiful human being inside and out, but you’re so much more than that: you’re strong, you’re intelligent, you’re hilarious.
Sometimes I wonder if I wanted you, or if I just wanted to be you.
Do you see why I always called you perfect?
Secondly, I’m glad we’re still friends. I know it was never going to be as easy as it was before we broke up, sitting together in restaurants for four hours at a time, only leaving because I needed to get a bus (that I would have always missed, if it was my choice). But I’m grateful that we can still have conversations at work, and we still have Dungeons and Dragons – even if I am pretty sure you’re going to cut off my horns before the end of the year…
Somewhere out there in a parallel universe, we are still together and we are happy. We aren’t together in this world, but I like to think we’re both happy anyway: I certainly am, and you seem to be completely over us. Sometimes it feels like you’ve forgotten we were ever together, and while that sucks because we’re always going to mean so much to me, I’m glad that I didn’t break your heart. I was really worried about potentially doing that.
I would have held you back in the end, because I know for a fact you’re going to move to Cardiff and do amazing things with your life, and if I’d been clutching your leg begging you not to leave it would have made things a lot more difficult for you. So even though sometimes it still hurts a little bit (yes, I moved on quickly, but I’m not heartless) I know I made the right choice for us.
I’m going to post this attempt, because it’s the first time that I haven’t thought to myself “god, I hope she doesn’t read it”. It’s definitely the most honest I’ve been.
There are another five This Modern Love questions, which means another five installments approaching in the coming weeks. I hope you enjoy them when they get here, and I hope they’re easier to write than this one: hopefully the first question’s the hardest.